


The Nightmare in Her Dreams

by esm3rald



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After season8 I hate them so no happy ending for them, Also NO ROMANTIC DANY/JORAH OR DANY/DAARIO, And because I have a soft spot for Arya left in me even after season8, Angst, Arya will be the Arya of season8 for most part of the story, Basically trying to make sense of things that don't make sense, But I will give an explanation that hopefully makes sense for her behaviour, Daenerys finally stops listening to her male advisors, Daenerys has a dream that shows her the future, Daenerys is hurt and feeling betrayed, Dark(er) Jon, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Targaryen Babies, F/M, Fire and Blood, Fix-It, Fuck the Starks, I will be more lenient towards Arya because she’s Jon’s favorite, Jon Snow will actually stay in character in this fiction, Jon will eventually embrace his Targaryen heritage, Jonerys happy ending eventually, Jonerys season8 fix-it, Poetic Justice for the Starks, R Plus L Equals J, Season7 rewrite, Season8 Fix-It, Season8 rewrite, Slow Burn, and not become whatever caricature he becomes in season8, but Daario will be there for Dany because she needs people loyal to her with her, if you like the Starks this is not the story for you, no Mad Queen, so she's not simply Sansa's Yes Man like in season8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 62,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esm3rald/pseuds/esm3rald
Summary: Before sailing for Westeros, Daenerys has a prophetic dream. That changes her plans completely.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my attempt to get over the heartbreak of this horrible season8. It's not going to be very long, though I don’t know how many chapters yet. Also, Jonerys is going to have a happy ending but it'll take a while for them to get there. Daenerys is heartbroken and feeling abandoned and betrayed by Jon and she's feeling lost because she sees what'll happen to her once she arrives in Westeros.  
> So yeah, things will be angsty as hell for a while but nothing can be worse that what we've got in season8.
> 
> Most of the story will be from Daenerys' and Jon’s POV though we'll see glimpses of Arya’s mind as well later on.
> 
> Hope you like it, tell me what you think!

She could still feel the phantom pain of the dagger piercing her heart when she woke up. It took a few breaths before she was lucid enough to realize that she wasn’t in the destroyed throne room of the Red Keep in King’s Landing, with Jon Snow looking down at her while he killed her but still in her bedroom in the Great Pyramid of Meereen.

Daenerys remembered then, she was supposed to sail for Westeros in a few days’ time. Finally, her long-life dream of coming home, of reaching Westeros, was within her grasp. But that dream would turn into a nightmare.

Queen of the Ashes. Mother of Monsters. That is what she would be remembered as. That was what the future would bring her after everything she did and been through.

She wished she could dismiss the dream she had just had but she couldn’t. Her dreams came true and this was just too detailed to be ignored. She felt everything the other Daenerys in her dreams did. Pain, heartache, loss, rage.

She would sail to Westeros, lose all her allies, most of her armies, two of her children, Missandei, Jorah and then her mind and her life, at the hands of the man she had fallen in love with and that turned out to be her nephew, her brother’s son, Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, after turning into the person she had tried to avoid becoming all her life, her father’s daughter. Tyrion Lannister, the man she was thinking of making her Hand, would fail her at every turn and Varys the Spider would betray her at the first opportunity.

Daenerys knew she had made mistakes, she knew she had failed herself and her people but her advisors and Jon Snow had failed her as well. She had put her trust in him, she gave him everything and she was left with nothing but ashes.

She wished she didn’t love him still.

And yet, her obsession with the Iron Throne was what she should blame the most. Daario had been right. Getting the Iron Throne wouldn’t bring her happiness. In fact, it would bring her nothing but misery, madness and death.

She had been so sure, all her life, that that was her purpose, taking back the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms as the Last Targaryen. Why would the gods give her dragons otherwise?  

But she had been wrong. Everything was just a cruel joke. Her place wasn’t in Westeros let alone as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. In Westeros she was just a foreign invader, yet another mad Targaryen. The people of Westeros wouldn’t love her but only fear and hate her.

She wished she could just remain here, never sail to Westeros at all. But she had promises to keep.

Yara Greyjoy had asked for her help in defeating Euron. Cersei was still alive and on the throne, and the Army of the Dead and the Night King had yet to be defeated. She couldn’t just close her eyes and pretend she didn’t know any of it.

Daenerys knew she would never sit on the Iron Throne, she knew she wasn’t the rightful heir. And after everything she had seen, she didn’t even want it anymore.

No, she would sail to Westeros, defeat Euron and Cersei before turning her army North. She would help her nephew defeat the army of the dead and then she would leave him the Throne and return back to Essos where she belonged, where she was loved.

Daenerys had sought a home all her life. She didn’t realize that her home was right here.


	2. Chapter 1

“It’s everything all right, your Grace?” Missandei’s sweet voice asked from behind her. It was morning and Missandei was helping her get ready for the day ahead, braiding her hair as usual and Daenerys couldn’t stop looking at her from her mirror, making sure she was really there, safe and sound.

She could still perfectly see her friend’s execution in her dreams. Every time she would think about it, blind rage and despair would fill her entire being and it would always take long minutes for her to snap out of it.

She wanted to rain fire and blood on Cersei and King’s Landing but she knew that that way led to madness. She wouldn’t succumb to it, not this time. She would make things right.

“Yes, Missandei. I’m all right. I’m just happy to know you’re by my side.”

“Always, your Grace.”

Yes, always. She would make sure of it. Missandei won’t die this time. Nor will her children. Nor will Jorah.

* * *

 

“I thank you for your advice, Lord Tyrion, but Daario is not simply my lover, he's also the commander of the Second Sons. While I will end our relationship, I will not leave him and the Second Sons behind. I need every man I have to win the war.”

Daenerys observed Tyrion carefully. He looked disappointed, obviously thinking he was right and that she was making a mistake, but he didn’t try to change her mind further.

“Of course, my Queen.” Tyrion said, bowing his head in acquiescence. They were alone in her solar, just like the first time the two of them had a real conversation when she first met him.

The ships would be ready to set sail in a few days’ time, her men filling them to the brim with the food they would need for the winter.

“Now, tell me my lord, Lord Varys was able to gain an alliance with the Reach and Dorne, isn’t that right?”

Tyrion nodded. “Yes, your Grace. Lady Olenna Tyrell and…” he grimaced a little before uttering “Ellaria Sand, who now rules Dorne after killing Prince Doran and his son and heir.”

“You don’t approve of this alliance.” Daenerys said, aware of the fact that Ellaria Sand was responsible for the death of Tyrion’s niece.

“I simply believe that a woman who kills her own Prince shouldn’t get to rule Dorne, that’s all. Moreover, she killed my innocent niece in cold blood just to get back at Cersei.”

“I understand your concerns, but we can’t allow ourselves to be picky. Ellaria Sand hates Cersei and we’ll use this to have Dorne on our side. I know she deserves to be punished for her crimes, that it would be the honorable thing to do, but she already bent the knee to me, recognizing me as her queen. She already promised the Dornish army in its entirety, I can’t very well execute her after this, can I?”

Tyrion nodded again. “I understand your position, your Grace. It’s the smart thing to do. If the situation didn’t concern me so intimately, I would agree wholeheartedly.”

“Good. Now, let’s talk strategy. First things first, is Lady Olenna still in Sunspear?”

At Tyrion’s nod, Daenerys said, “Good. We should send her a message to have the soldiers in the castle strip Highgarden of everything it contains – food, gold, everything of value – and the surrounding fields and farms of food as well and bring all of this to Sunspear. Also, Lady Olenna should stay in Sunspear and not return to Highgarden, she will be safe there. In the meantime, the Dornish army will join the Reach army _in_ Highgarden and from there they will march towards King’s Landing together. This needs to happen before we arrive, so that the Westerosi army will have already reached the capital by the time we land in Westeros.”

“Do you plan on attacking full force?” Tyrion asked, fearfully looking at her.

“I plan on surrounding the city from all sides before Cersei has even the time to call in reinforcements.”

Tyrion widened his eyes and nodded in approval. “So, you plan on using our fleet to surround King’s Landing by sea.”

“Yes and no.” At Tyrion’s confused look, Daenerys elaborated. “We’ll split our fleet. The ships that contain the Unsullied and part of the Dothraki will land in Lannisport and take Casterly Rock. It will be a surprise attack, they won’t expect it and they won’t have the time to leave the castle or send the Lannister army anywhere else. However, if your brother somehow manages to leave the capital and reach Casterly Rock and the Lannister army somehow manages to leave the castle, they will try to attack Highgarden.”

“Why Highgarden?”

“Cersei needs to feed the population and she has no food at the moment. And there’s also the problem of the debt with the Iron Bank that she will want to solve. Attacking Highgarden would solve that. Except for the fact that, if they were to attack the castle, they will find it empty of anything of value. At that point, they could decide to return to Casterly Rock, but they will find the Unsullied and Dothraki waiting for them, or they could decide to go towards King’s Landing to defend the capital. If that were to happen, I will get rid of them with my dragons before they even have the time to reach the capital.”

Tyrion winced a little at the idea of Daenerys using her dragons on the Lannisters’ army but nodded. “So where do you plan on landing your fleet?”

“In Sunspear, momentarily. Then we’ll make our way directly to King’s Landing.”

“Why Sunspear? Why not Dragonstone? It’s closer to the capital and Aegon I started his conquest of Westeros from there.”

“I’m well aware of that, Lord Tyrion, but I’m not Aegon the Conqueror. I’m Daenerys Stormborn.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“There’s still the problem of Euron Greyjoy and his fleet. I made Yara a promise that I intend to keep but I can’t sail to Pyke and back, it’ll take too much time.”

“Then what do you plan to do?”

“If you were Euron Greyjoy and you had just found out that the alliance you intended to make with me is not happening because your niece beats you to it, what would you do?”

“Seek an alliance elsewhere.” Tyrion said immediately and then, widening his eyes… “with another queen.”

“Yes, so I imagine I won’t have to sail to Pyke because Euron will be headed to King’s Landing. And our fleet, my children and I will meet him on the way.”

“You can’t be thinking of following the fleet on the back of your dragons?”

“That’s exactly what I plan on doing. If Euron attacks us, I’ll be ready. If we manage to reach King’s Landing, he will bring his fleet there as well and I’ll get rid of him in Blackwater Bay. And before you say that is dangerous, that arrows could hit me, I’m aware of that. I’ll simply wear an armor to protect myself.”

Tyrion opened and closed his mouth a few times in surprise and then finally nodded. “It’s a good plan. It could work.”

“It has to work.”

“What do you plan on doing once we actually reach King’s Landing? Do you intend to unleash your dragons on the capital, because thousands of innocents people will die this way.”

“I don’t plan on being Queen of the Ashes, Tyrion. No, I won’t use dragonfire except for bursting the gates open and let the army through. I can’t. You warned me that there’s still wildfire all over the capital, I can’t risk it going off.”

“Good.” Tyrion said, relieved. “We should starve them out. The people will rebel against Cersei this way and the city will fall.”

“How is starving more humane than killing them outright? No, Lord Tyrion, we won’t do that. It’ll take too much time anyway. No, my goal is the Red Keep. Once that is taken and Cersei is captured, the city will be ours.”


	3. Chapter 2

“You will come with me to Westeros, Daario Naharis, but you’ll do so as the commander of the Second Sons, not as my lover.”

The man in front of her huffed and said, with an ironic smile. “Did the little man put you up to this?”

Daenerys smiled a little. “Tyrion wanted me to leave you behind altogether.” Then, in a more serious tone, she added, “Can you accept being only my sworn sword and nothing more?”

Daario sighed, looking disappointed but not angry. “I love you, you know that. But I’ve always known you were made for greater things that being with me. Yes, my Queen, I will follow you, wherever you will lead me.”

“Good.” Daenerys nodded, satisfied. “Because I have need of you and your men. When I explain what I have in mind, you’d be in your right to call me crazy but…I want to try it anyway.”

* * *

Daenerys had a plan. Maybe it was a crazy plan and it probably won’t work but after seeing the vision of herself going beyond the wall and Drogon taking people on her back beside herself, she had an idea. It all relayed on how much her children would listen to her wishes. She couldn’t force them to submit to her wishes if they didn’t want to, after all ‘a dragon is not a slave’ but she would ask them and see what happened.

Daenerys knew that Cersei’s guards was mostly comprised of the abomination that was the Mountain and a few other Lannister soldiers. There was no Kingsguard anymore and really, except for the Lannister army at Casterly Rock and the Golden Company she had employed in her dream, the city itself had no more than a few thousand soldiers and inside the Red Keep there were probably no more than fifty men, if that.

Cersei, in her dream, had been able to resist as long as she did, mostly thanks to Euron Greyjoy and the utter failure that had been Tyrion’s strategy. Daenerys couldn’t fault him for that, not really. Tyrion was not a military man, his talents resided in politics. It had been a mistake to rely on him for war tactics. And it had been a mistake to fight with both hands tied behind her back, second-guessing herself all the time.

Of course, she also knew that part of the reason Tyrion’s tactics had failed was because he didn’t want to hurt his family. Once again, Daenerys could understand his position but she needed people loyal to her on her side and not someone with such divided loyalties like Tyrion. For this reason, she won’t make him her Hand this time and she would watch him carefully to see what he would do. Maybe he would surprise her and stay loyal to her, after all in her dreams he didn’t really betray her until she had captured Jaime and then she had burnt King’s Landing. She would give him a chance but she won’t trust him as much as she had done in her dream, like she wouldn’t trust Varys. She couldn’t just get rid of Varys now since he hadn’t betrayed her yet. He could still be useful and, for now, he was still loyal to her. But, at the first sign of betrayal, she would burn him alive just like she had promised him.

Daenerys stopped in front of her three children, all three alive and well and basking in the sun. Daenerys felt tears coming to her eyes at the idea of losing both Viserion and Rhaegal. No, she won’t let that happen, she will die before she would let anyone harm her children this time. No Night King, Euron Greyjoy or any other will take them away from her.

She turned towards Daario and the forty or so man she had asked him to choose among his Second Sons.

“Stay here.” She ordered them before approaching her dragons.

She could feel the connection to all three of them, though stronger with Drogon, like a rope made of flames connecting them together.

Dragons only accepted one rider but maybe they would accept passengers if their mother asked them to.

Daenerys caressed her three children and explain to them what she wanted from them, speaking sweetly and calmly in Valyrian. Her dragons were not happy, especially Drogon, but after long minutes of coaxing them she finally got them to acquiesce to her wishes, even if reluctantly.

Cersei’s advantage was the Wildfire still present in the city. She would make sure Cersei wouldn’t even have the time to give the order for the wildfire to be set off.

She had promised Tyrion she wouldn’t use dragonfire on the city. She had never said she wouldn’t use her dragons.

* * *

Another thing on her list before finally sailing for Westeros, was getting an armor for herself and some of her men as well. There wouldn’t be time to fully armor everyone but at least a partial armor could be done in time.

For herself, she wanted something light, that would allow her to move without the metal slowing her down or restricting her movements while flying on her dragon but also able to protect her from flying arrows.

Moreover, after having seeing Jorah dying protecting her in her dream and Daenerys herself picking up a sword to fight, she decided that it was time for her to learn how to use a weapon. She would never be a proficient at it but, at least, she would be able to defend herself on the ground even without her men or her dragons protecting her.

After all, she had the long journey to Westeros ahead of her. She could, at least, fill those two moons on a ship with something useful since she had already planned her strategy to take King’s Landing.

* * *

“How long before the Reach and Dornish army reaches King’s Landing?” Daenerys asked the people gathered around the long table in the room in Sunspear they were momentarily using for war councils.

“A fortnight, my Queen.” Ellaria replied.

Daenerys nodded. “Good. It’ll give us enough time to reach Blackwater Bay more or less at the same time as our armies.” Then she turned towards Lady Olenna. “What about Highgarden?”

“Stripped of everything of value, just like you ordered. If the Lannister army will indeed decide to attack it, they will find only an empty castle.” Lady Olenna said with a smirk.

Daenerys smiled in satisfaction.

“Will you be waiting for the Unsullied and Dothraki to reach Casterly Rock before sailing to King’s Landing, your Grace?” Tyrion asked her.

“No. That would announce our presence to the Lannisters. I’m aware of the fact that Cersei has spies and that she’s probably aware that I’m coming, but the less warning she gets before we attack, the better. She can’t do much if she doesn’t know what we’re planning.” Daenerys explained, “We’ll stay here only the time necessary to rest a little and then we’ll sail to King’s Landing while the rest of our fleet will sail to Casterly Rock. You, however, Lord Tyrion, will remain here and so will Lord Varys.” Both men were about to protest but Daenerys ignored them. “I have no use of you on the battlefield. Once the battle is won and King’s Landing is taken, you’ll join me.”

“Very well, my Queen.” Varys said, bowing to her in his slippery way. “We’ll do as you command.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading my story, that has left me kudos on it and/or comments. I'm really happy you're liking it.

The ships looked like flies on water from up there. Daenerys closed her eyes a moment to enjoy the cool wind on her face and then turned her gaze below her. The night was moonless but calm and the sky was clear, except for the odd cloud that Daenerys was using to hide her presence, and lighted up with thousands of stars. It was peaceful but the prickle of awareness flowing under her skin warned her that this was just the calm before the storm.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere, a thousand ships bearing the golden kraken with the red eye of Euron Greyjoy. Her own fleet was outnumbered since half of it was right now sailing to Casterly Rock. Euron’s fleet surrounded hers like tentacles on a prey but Daenerys wasn’t afraid. Euron thought he was the one laying the trap but, in truth, he had just fallen into hers.

Daenerys held on to Drogon’s back a little tighter and then, they descended, Drogon and her and then Viserion and Rhaegal following along, in vertical lines, fast and invisible until it was too late.

They were on the ships in an instant. Euron’s men had no time to react before at least five ships were in flames. Daenerys smiled in satisfaction but it wasn’t over.

She searched for the Silence, Euron’s ship, and there, attacking the ship that Daenerys knew contained Yara.

She was on it in an instant. “Dracarys!” She said to Drogon sweetly, without shouting, without fear, only fire in her veins.

Euron didn’t even have the time to scream before he was incinerated. The rest of the crew in the ship met the same fate and then, of the Silence, remained nothing but rabble.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Ironborns to surrender and bend the knee to Yara, recognizing her as their Queen.

And now, they had almost 1500 ships headed towards Blackwater’s Bay. The city would be surrounded completely and Cersei would have nowhere to run.

* * *

She wondered what Cersei was thinking, looking at King’s Landing from one of the balconies of the Red Keep. Did she think Daenerys was laying siege to the city? Did she think Daenerys would use her dragons to rain fire and blood on it? Was she afraid? Confident that she would win like always? Sipping her wine and contemplating how this would end? And what about the Kingslayer? Where was he? Inside the castle as well or already in Casterly Rock or perhaps attacking Highgarden already like what had happened in her dreams?

It didn’t matter at the moment, of course. She had thought about every possibility and she was confident in her plans. Daenerys’ belief in herself had never failed her. It was when she started to rely too much on other people that she started to crumble and lose everything she held dear. But no more. She was Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, blood of the dragon and she would take the city this very night.

Like she had told Tyrion, if they managed to take the Red Keep and capture Cersei, the game would be won. Her plan was simple. Mad as well, but simple.

She didn’t think anyone had ever tried what she was about to do and probably for good reason but nobody had actually birthed dragons like she had done. Her dragons were her children and children listened to their mother.

“Are you sure about this?” Daario Naharis asked, reaching her side. “Not that I’ve never thought about what it would be like to ride a dragon…present company notwithstanding, of course.” He smirked at her in the usual cocky, suggestive way that he did.

“You won’t be riding a dragon. You will simply be a passenger on Viserion’s back. You and your men won’t be able to control him or Rhaegal. All you’ll have to do would be to hold on to their backs and let them bring you on top of the Red Keep. I will be on Drogon and the rest of your men will be with me, fifteen at the most on every dragon, and I will be the one to give the directions to my children.”

Daario nodded. “Still think this plan is nuts but, at least, If I die, I can say I died because I was on the back of a dragon.”

Daenerys laughed at him. “Just try not to vomit, Daario Naharis. And hold on as tight as you can. Viserion and Rhaegal will do the rest.”

* * *

Drogon landed on top of the Red Keep, Viserion and Rhaegal close behind and soon, all men were leaving the dragons’ back, holding on to ropes with hooks tied to whatever piece of metal or stone was closer to keep their balance on the various towers they were standing on. Some looked a little green, others had looks on elation on their faces but most just looked scared and unbalanced.

Still, they were sellswords and it didn’t take long for them to regain their bearings. Forty men to take a castle like the Red Keep. She hoped it would be enough.

She watched them enter from every opening available: balconies, open windows. They were silent, quick and agile and Daenerys knew she had made the right choice when she had chosen the Second Sons for this task.

She observed for a few long seconds, until they had all disappeared inside and then she flew with Drogon towards the King’s Gate. The Reach and Dornish army were camped outside, just waiting for her signal.

Daenerys flew over the walls and with a simple Dracarys, the gate was destroyed and part of the walls with it. The army didn’t lose any time in making their way inside.

She had made sure to order them to target only the soldiers in the city. No civilians, especially women and children, will be touched or there will be severe consequences for them. She knew they would listen, not because of any particular loyalty to her but because they were terrified of her dragons. It didn’t matter anyway, not as long as innocent lives would be spared.

* * *

The sun was just making its appearance over the horizon when the bells rang. Daenerys closed her eyes and breathed deeply, calming herself down. It was different now. It wasn’t like in her dreams. Missandei was alive, her dragons were all alive, Jorah was still alive and probably still at the Citadel, getting cured for greyscale. And the city was hers.

She opened her eyes with a deep breath. She was calm. She was okay. And the city was still standing.

She flew with Drogon in front of the Red Keep’s steps. The soldiers outside the castle immediately bowed to her.

“You Grace.” They all said reverently. Daenerys felt nothing. She just kept walking.

Inside the throne room, she found Daario with a grin on his face, his arms opened wide, as it to offer her the Throne just a few steps away from her.

Daenerys looked at it. Such an ugly thing. All that blood shed, all those lives lost and all for this ugly, menacing chair.

Daenerys turned away from it and asked Daario, “Cersei?”

Daario grinned at her. “In chains. We’re just waiting for your order.”

“The Kingslayer?”

“Tied up as well. They were holding each other when we captured them. So sweet.” Daario mocked them.

“Good. They will face justice together as well.”

“The little man won’t be too happy about that. He still loves his brother.”

Daenerys knew that but she had given Jaime a chance already in her dream and he had betrayed her. There would be no second chance for him. He will be punished for his crimes, just like his beloved twin. And there will be no Tyrion to free him this time.

Let’s see what Tyrion will do after that. Let’s see if he will still be loyal to her. If not, Daenerys will find another person to become Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock.

“Tyrion will accept my decision or he won’t. It doesn’t matter either way.” Daenerys said with finality. “I’m sure he knows what will happen if he betrays me.”

Daario smirked again. “Fire and Blood.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short chapter. Sorry they are this short but, this way, I can update every day. Instead of spending days working on a longer chapter. I'm sure you prefer as well to have updates every day instead of having to wait. Anyway, hope you like it! I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story. When I started writing it, I didn't expect so many people to like it and comment on it. Thanks so much!

“Yara, Daario, you’re in charge of the city until I return. Make an estimate of the damage done to the city, take account of the deaths and return the bodies to their families where it’s possible. And make sure to distribute food to the people. There’s more than enough to feed both our armies and the common people.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Both said in unison, bowing their heads to her in respect.

“Now, Ser Garlan Tyrell, was it?” Daenerys looked at the handsome, sandy-haired man with the green and golden armour of the Reach, the golden flower painted proudly on his chest showing to the world whose House he belonged to. He was the Commander of the Reach Army and nephew to the late Lord Mace Tyrell.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You said that among those we’ve captured in the Red Keep, there was a Lord of a Reach House and his son, correct?”

“Yes, your Grace. Lord Randyll Tarly and his son, Dickon.”

“I thought Lord Tarly had fought on the Targaryens’ side during the Rebellion. Why would he want to ally himself to the Lannisters against me and against House Tyrell?”

“Ambition, I suspect. Lord Tarly has always resented my uncle for taking the credit for his military accomplishments during the War for the Usurper. If the Lannisters offered him to make him the new Lord of the Reach, I’m sure he jumped at the opportunity.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Daenerys answered. She felt conflicted about Randyll and Dickon Tarly. On one hand, they were traitors to the Tyrells and the punishment for treason was death – she didn’t regret executing them in her dream, it was the right decision. However, in this case, they didn’t take arms against her, mostly because they didn’t have the time to but, still, she couldn’t execute them for something they only thought of doing. “Let’s see if Lord Tarly is amenable to bending the knee to his rightful Queen. If not, I think sending both him and his son to the Wall is the best option. What do you think, Ser Garlan? Do you agree with my decision?”

“Yes, your Grace.” Ser Garlan said with a satisfied smile.

“Good. Then, bring them to me.”

* * *

Like it was easily predictable, Lord Tarly refused to bend the knee and so did his son. Daenerys had no other choice but to send them to the Wall. They would board a ship – Tyrell soldiers making sure they wouldn’t escape – that would take them to Eastwatch, and from there to Castle Black. Daenerys felt at peace with her decision. Nobody could say she hadn’t been fair.

Lady Talla Tarly would be made aware of what had happened to her brother and father and Daenerys hoped she was smarter than the men in her family because Daenerys had every intention of making her Lady of Horn Hill if she bent the knee to her. Daenerys refused to even consider Samwell Tarly for the position. As much as she was grateful to him for curing Jorah, she couldn’t forget the way he had conspired to divide her and Jon just to get back at her for executing his father and brother. And anyway, Samwell Tarly was a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, therefore he had renounced every right he had to the seat of House Tarly. Lady Talla was the best option.

And thinking about the Wall, she wondered if maybe sending Jaime Lannister to the Wall wasn’t the best option. That would assure Tyrion’s loyalty but would it be worth it? As much as Tyrion was despised for being a dwarf, he was still a Lannister and the Lannister army would follow him just because of his name.

Having Tyrion on her side, as Lord of the Westerlands, would also give her the authority necessary to free the Riverlands from the Lannister army without engaging in yet another fight and reinstitute Edmure Tully as Lord of the Riverlands.

Tyrion was the key to the Westerlands but could she really spare Jaime, knowing that, as soon as Daenerys would execute Cersei, he would try to find ways to kill her to get revenge for his sister?

What was the best course of action? She couldn’t ask Daario or Yara for advice because she knew both would want to execute Jaime. Tyrion was the opposite, wanting to save his brother even if he didn’t deserve it. Lady Olenna would probably advise her to kill Jaime as well, just because she hated all the Lannisters after what Cersei had done. Ellaria Sand was the same thing. Varys couldn’t be trusted. Ser Jorah wasn’t with her.

Missandei. Her dear Missandei would advise her on what to do. Missandei, whom she had left on Sunspear to keep her safe, wanting her as far away from Cersei as possible.

Daenerys would leave on Drogon soon to reach Sunspear, to inform her allies of their victory. King’s Landing didn’t have a Maester who could send a raven, except for that strange, disturbing man – Qyburn – who was loyal to Cersei and that Daenerys wasn’t even sure was a real Maester at all. They could send a messenger, of course, but Daenerys would be quicker on her dragon. And after visiting Sunspear, she would fly to Casterly Rock to see for herself what the situation was.

But first, there was something else she wanted to do.

* * *

“You are Gendry Waters, correct?” Daenerys looked at the young blacksmith she had met only in her dreams. The only son of Robert Baratheon still alive.

She was finally sitting on the Iron Throne she had aspired for all her life. Her hand caressed the blades gently. Not a cut on her finger. The Throne felt comfortable underneath her, almost like it was accepting her, embracing her as worthy.

“Yes, your Grace.” The young man said, his blue eyes darting to the floor in nervousness.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” Daenerys said. Gendry raised his eyes to hers. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here.”

Gendry didn’t answer, only nodded his head once, his hands wringing each other, his knuckles white.

“I know who you really are.” Daenerys said, tired of the silence.

Gendry widened his eyes in fear. “Your Grace…” He pleaded.

Was he really expecting for her to call for his head just because of his blood?

“I already told you, Gendry Waters. I won’t harm you. In fact, I declare, in front of all these witnesses,” Daenerys raised her arm to encompass all the people present in the throne room, “that from now on, you will be known as Lord Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.”

“Your Grace, I’m…I’m just a bastard. I can’t be a lord.” Gendry protested, his eyes wide in surprise.

“You will be a bastard no longer. You will be a lord and a Baratheon because I’m making you so. It’s my right as Queen.”

Gendry looked on the verge of tears. “Thank you, your Grace. Thank you, I don’t know what to say.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “I only require one thing of you. Your loyalty.”

Gendry immediately knelt. “Of course, your Grace. It’s yours. Now and always.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, two chapters in a day. I'm surprised of myself. And this one is even longer than normal. Anyway, hope you like this!

Missandei listened in silence while Daenerys laid bare all her doubts about both Jaime and Tyrion. It seemed that, no matter what she would decide, it would be the wrong choice.

They were sitting on two chairs facing each other, a low table between them with a tray containing a carafe of Dornish wine and two half-full glasses and a plate filled with slices of sweet pies of varied flavours, in the parlor that Ellaria had left for her personal use to have her meetings with her various advisors.

Finally, when Daenerys had finished speaking, Missandei looked at her with her kind, dark brown eyes and asked her, “What do you think is the best choice, my Queen? Do you think Ser Jaime should be spared?”

“I don’t know. I feel that, yes, he should be punished, but maybe death is not the right punishment for him. Cersei will be executed and I wonder, would Jaime allow himself to be his own man with Cersei no longer in his life? Would he finally make the right choice, then? Or would he waste his life, trying to get revenge on me, even if I spare him, and then ending up being executed anyway? And what about Tyrion? If I kill his brother, he will betray me, I know he will. But, at the same time, I can’t let Jaime go just because he’s Tyrion’s brother. And yet, I need Tyrion to get the Westerlands. Tyrion did kill Tywin Lannister but his name still has weight. If I appoint someone else as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, would the Lannister bannermen respect his or her authority?”

Missandei looked at Daenerys with compassion. “It’s a difficult decision. I feel that pardoning Ser Jaime would be the wrong choice. He still needs to be punished for his crimes. However, sending him to the Wall instead of executing him might be best. But only if he bends the knee to you and accepts your authority as queen, swearing he will never try to do anything to harm you. Have Tyrion try to convince his brother. If he doesn’t succeed, you’ll execute Ser Jaime but, at least, no one will say you didn’t give him a chance. And, if Tyrion does betray you anyway, then…his loss. With him by your side, it may be easier for you to get the Westerlands but it’s not the only way. He may be important but he’s not essential to your plans.”

Daenerys looked at Missandei with a smile. “Thank you, Missandei. I knew I could count on your advice. What would I do without you?”

Missandei smiled at her Queen. “You won’t ever have to find out because I’ll always be by your side.”

Daenerys nodded at her. She would make sure of that. Nobody would hurt Missandei this time around, not if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

“There will be no pardon for your brother, Lord Tyrion. It’s death or the Wall for him. Convince him to bend the knee to me and he will be spared and he’ll join the Night’s Watch.”

“My Queen, I know that you hate him for killing your father but…”

“I don’t hate him, Lord Tyrion. I understand why he had to kill my father but he still did kill the King he was sworn to. He also failed to defend my niece and nephew and Princess Elia Martell during the Sack of King’s Landing. Not only wasn’t he punished for these crimes, but he was also allowed to remain in the Kingsguard. Moreover, as much as I don’t care about the Usurper, what Jaime did, conceiving three bastards with Cersei, the Queen, and passing them off as legitimate Baratheons…” Daenerys shook her head. “And let’s not add the numerous sins he committed against House Stark. Do you think I’m the one biased? Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would understand if I decide to execute Jaime Lannister.”

Tyrion sighed. “You’re right, of course. But he’s my brother and he’s not a bad man.”

“Maybe he’s not but his actions say otherwise. I understand that he’s your brother and you love him but I’m the Queen, I have to be objective in my decisions and not let personal feelings cloud my judgment. You also have to understand that letting Ser Jaime live is a risk to my personal safety. I doubt he will be okay with me executing Cersei. He will want to get revenge on me and even if a man with one hand is not the greatest danger I could ever face, letting him live at all still puts my life at risk.”

“You are wise beyond your age, my Queen.” Tyrion said, smiling at her despite his sadness at the uncertain fate of his brother. “Very well, I will try to convince Jaime to bend the knee.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Daenerys asked with one eyebrow raised, her tone maybe a little harsh.

Tyrion sighed. “I will accept your decision because you are my Queen and I believe in you.”

Daenerys wished she could believe him. But, most of all, she wished Jaime would prove her wrong and actually choose to go to the Wall. She had already changed the future in her dreams, at least when it came to her own fate, so maybe not everything was set in stone. If Jaime decided on going to the Wall instead of facing death with his sister, maybe there was still hope for her and Jon as well.

Daenerys shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. Jon had betrayed her long before he had killed her. She couldn’t trust him. She needed to guard her heart against him or he will destroy her, just like he had done in her dreams.

* * *

Jaime Lannister would live and go to the Wall after all. Daenerys had asked Tyrion how exactly he had been able to convince Jaime and Tyrion had answered that he had only reminded Jaime that Cersei wasn’t his only family. Tyrion had basically begged Jaime not to force him to watch his own brother die at the hand of the Queen he had sworn loyalty to. Tyrion’s words had been enough to convince Jaime, even if very reluctantly.

Jaime had bent the knee in front of Daenerys, sitting on the Iron Throne, and in the presence of numerous witnesses, swearing he would not seek revenge against her and that he will spend his final days at the Wall, repenting for his sins and serving the realm. It was obvious that it was Tyrion who had instructed Jaime on what to say and that Jaime had no love or loyalty for Daenerys herself but Daenerys didn’t care. As long as Jaime kept his vow, this time, Daenerys would let him be.

Daenerys had also visited Casterly Rock. Thanks to Tyrion’s plan to infiltrate the castle, the Unsullied and Dothraki succeeded in their task. There were some losses on her side, but nothing too great. Still, Daenerys made sure a funeral pyre was built for them and that all the funeral rites would be respected and her men celebrated with all the honors they deserved.

The Lannister men who had survived bent the knee to her without much resistance, thanks especially to the presence of Tyrion Lannister at her side.

After that, still with Tyrion with her, Daenerys flew with Drogon to Riverrun. Tyrion, as the newly appointed Lord of the Westerlands and Warden of the West, ordered the Lannister army still occupying the castle to stand down and to bend the knee to the new Queen. Once again, the Lannister men, most of whom were commoners who had joined the Lannister army because they had been forced to, did as they were ordered. It wasn’t like they really felt any particular loyalty to Cersei or Jaime.

Daenerys freed Edmure Tully from the dungeons they were keeping him and though the man was a little reluctant to swear fealty to her at first – mostly because of his own loyalty to his nieces and nephew still alive – Daenerys reminded him that it wasn’t the Starks who had freed him, allowing him to be reunited with his wife and son.

Daenerys pitied him. It was obvious the man had been through a terrible ordeal and that now, he just wanted peace and his wife and son by his side. He probably felt like he owned loyalty to the Starks because they were his family but, at the same time, it wasn’t like the Starks had done anything to try to free him. They had taken their home back and Arya Stark had even gotten revenge on the Freys and yet, they had completely ignored the fact that their uncle was still a prisoner of the Lannisters.

And Lord Tully seemed to come to the same conclusion because it didn’t take long for him to swear fealty to the Queen to whom he owned his freedom.

All in all, Daenerys was very satisfied for the way things were going. And now, there was a last loose end she needed to tie up.

“If you have any last words,” Daenerys said, looking Cersei Lannister straight in the eye. Angry, green eyes stared back at her, defiant and proud until the very end. Daenerys’ court surrounded her while they all stood in the Dragonpit her ancestors had built, her three children flying overhead.  The trial had been quick, more of a formality than anything else but every representative for the regions she had conquered had been present: Lady Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, Yara Greyjoy, Tyrion, Gendry – in an official capacity as Lord of the Stormlands for the first time – and Lord Edmure Tully. “Now is the time.” Daenerys finished, repeating the same words Cersei had said to Missandei before killing her in her dream.

Daenerys felt the familiar fury building up in her, her blood singing with rightful vengeance. Drogon felt her emotions because he emitted a mighty roar before descending in front of her.

Cersei kept her spine straight, even though she was on her knees in front of all the people she had hurt and betrayed one way or another – well, expect for the Starks – and said, “You may think you’ve won but Westeros will never accept a foreign whore like you. You don’t belong here, you never will.”

Those words cut deeper than Daenerys would like to admit but she kept her face impassive. Instead, she looked at her son and said one simple word, “Dracarys!”

A burst of orange flames and, of Cersei Lannister remained nothing but ashes.

* * *

“What is it?” Jon asked his sister, noticing the frown marring her fair face and the scroll she was holding in her hand.

Sansa had joined him in the library while he and Davos were once again trying to think of ways of defeating the army of the dead with the few resources they had. Needless to say, they weren’t getting very far.

Sansa sighed and looked at him with worry. “A raven from King’s Landing.”

“Cersei? Again?” Jon scoffed but Sansa shook her head.

“Look at the sigil on the message.” Sansa turned the scroll up and Jon noticed something he hadn’t noticed before.

“That’s the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.” Jon said in surprise.

Sansa nodded. “It seems Daenerys Targaryen, the Mad King’s daughter, has conquered King’s Landing. Cersei has been executed for her crimes and Jaime Lannister was sent to the Wall.”

“I didn’t even know the Dragon Queen was in Westeros.” Jon said with wide eyes. “Last I heard, she was in Meereen, still trying to bring peace to Slaver’s Bay.”

“So, you’ve heard of her?” Sansa asked, surprised.

“Maester Aemon, the maester at the Wall, he was Aegon V’s brother and therefore, he was her great-great-uncle or something. He used to receive letters that would inform him of what Daenerys was doing. Sam – Samwell Tarly – one of my Night’s Watch’s brothers – he’s at the Citadel now – used to read them to him.”

Sansa nodded. “Yeah, well, it seems she landed in Westeros less than two moons ago. And she has already conquered King’s Landing and Casterly Rock. And the Reach, Dorne, the Iron Islands and the Stormlands, they all swore fealty to her. Tyrion Lannister is one of her advisors, so she has the Westerlands on her side as well, with Cersei dead and the Kingslayer at the Wall. And even Uncle Edmure bent the knee to her.”

“She conquered five Kingdoms in less than two moons?” Jon asked, both worried and impressed despite himself.

“It’s not all. She has also three dragons and a huge army from Essos: Unsullied, Dothraki, sellswords. I’m sure you can imagine what she will set her eyes on next. And why she’s sending us a raven in the first place.”

“She wants the North to bend the knee.” Jon said, needlessly.

“Not only the North. The Vale supports us and I’m sure this fact doesn’t sit well with the Dragon Queen.”

“What does the raven say exactly?” Davos, that until that moment had remained silent, asked.

“Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen – and an obnoxiously long list of titles after that – invites Jon Snow, King in the North, to come to King’s Landing, to speak of a potential alliance between House Targaryen and House Stark. Failure to comply with this request, or at the very least, failure to even enter into negotiations with the Crown, will be interpreted as a hostile act and dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, that’s a threat if I ever heard one.” Davos said with his usual irony. The worried look on his face belayed the jovial tone in his voice though.

“Sam sent me a raven as well.” Jon’s words seemed unrelated to what they were talking about and it caused a confused look to appear on Sansa’s face. “He said that Dragonstone castle sits on a mountain of dragonglass, one of the few things able to kill the dead.”

Sansa looked confused for another second but then, she widened her eyes in disbelief. “You can’t actually be thinking of accepting the Dragon Queen’s ‘invitation’.” Sansa’s voice was high enough that it was just a pitch below a scream. “Don’t you remember the last time a Targaryen invited a Stark to King’s Landing? The Mad King burnt our grandfather and uncle alive. This is not an invitation, it’s a trap.”

Jon sighed. “Maybe. But what other choice do I have, Sansa? We will never be able to win a war against the Dragon Queen. She doesn’t even have to march her armies North. She just can fly on her dragon and burn Winterfell to the ground.”

Sansa looked both fearful and angry at his words. “If she wants the people of Westeros to accept her, she can’t just go around burning castles.”

“Aegon the conqueror did and the people of Westeros accepted him just fine. Sure, the North would be furious on House Stark’s behalf but the rest of Westeros? They wouldn’t care. After all, Daenerys can always say that she gave us a chance…and she would be right.”

Sansa didn’t look willing to listen to Jon’s words and Jon tried to suppress a sigh. Sansa was smart but she was also arrogant, in the way that she thought that she was the only one who was right and the others were wrong if they didn’t agree with her. Still, she was his sister and Jon needed to make her understand that negotiating peace with the Dragon Queen was the only choice they had.

“Sansa, I understand your fear and your suspicion. I feel the same way. But look at the alternative. If I don’t go to King’s Landing, the Dragon Queen will take the North anyway and we’ll all be dead. At least, this way, we have a chance of survival and, if I can convince Daenerys to fight with us against the dead our chances of surviving and saving the North increase a great deal as well.”

“You mean to bend the knee to her.” Sansa accused, seemingly not having heard a word Jon had just said.

“I didn’t say that. But, if there’s no other way, I’d prefer to renounce my crown if it means we’ll all survive winter. Daenerys is the best chance we have.”

“What if she’s mad like her father?” Sansa asked, almost in a whine. Not that Sansa would ever admit it. After all, a lady didn’t whine.

“She could be. But I don’t think so. You said it yourself. Tyrion is one of her advisors and you know him better than anyone else here. Would Tyrion really follow a mad ruler?”

Sansa huffed. “Probably not. But Tyrion likes power. If Daenerys can give him that, maybe he’d be willing to disregard the fact that the queen he serves is mad.”

“Pardon me, Lady Sansa,” Davos interjected, “but how many causalities resulted in the Dragon Queen taking King’s Landing? Did she burn the city with her dragons?” 

Sansa frowned. “I don’t know. But how else she took the city so quickly? Cersei would have never surrendered, even if she had to stare death in the face or if she had to use all the citizens of King’s Landing as shield so she could save herself.”

Jon frowned, now more than a little apprehensive. He wasn’t sure he would be able to negotiate with someone who was willing to burn cities just to sit on a chair.

“It doesn’t matter.” He decided in the end. “We don’t have any other choice.”

Sansa was about to protest once again when Davos interrupted her before she could even speak. “The letter said that she wants to talk about a ‘potential alliance’ with the King in the North?”

“Yes?” Jon said, not understanding where Davos was going.

“Well, what is the best way to make alliances?”

Jon looked confused and Davos sighed. “Marriage, Jon. Marriage.”

“You think she wants to marry him?” Sansa asked in a shrill voice.

“It wouldn’t be so far out of the realms of possibilities, would it? A marriage between them would be the best way to avoid any conflict between north and south. And Jon wouldn’t even have to bend the knee and give up the North. I’m sure Daenerys Targaryen, a woman who conquered cities and amassed armies before the age of twenty, would be aware of that. I’m sure she didn’t solve every conflict she had to face with ‘fire and blood’.”

Jon frowned. In a way, what Davos was saying made sense. But there was only one problem. “I’m a bastard, Davos. I really doubt the Last Targaryen would be willing to sully her bloodline with bastard blood.” He finished bitterly.

“You’re King in the North, Jon. I’m sure such a thing would matter more to the Dragon Queen than the fact that you’re a bastard.”

Jon sighed, tired of this conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I guess we’ll know what she has in mind once we reach King’s Landing. We’ll ride to White Harbor as soon as we’re able and then, from there, we’ll sail to King’s Landing.”

“You can’t just leave for the south without talking to our bannermen first. Do you really think they will be okay with it?”

“Probably not. And, don’t worry, I will talk to them but only to inform them of my decision, not to ask their permission.” Sansa was about to protest for what seemed like the millionth time when Jon talked before she could, “As the only Stark in Winterfell, while I’m gone, the North is yours.”

That served to silence whatever complaint she was about to utter. Jon knew she still didn’t agree with him, that she thought him foolish for wanting to, at least, try to reach a treaty with the Mad King’s daughter, but, it seems, the idea of being in charge of the North had appeased her enough to stop questioning every single decision Jon had made, at least for the moment.


	7. Chapter 6

The Mountain and Qyburn were executed just after Cersei. It had taken six men to subdue the monstrosity that had killed Aegon and Rhaenys and raped and killed Princess Elia but Daenerys had wanted him to face justice by dragonfire and therefore, she couldn’t allow for him to die before he was judged and condemned. Gregor Clegane burned for his sins in front of Ellaria and the Sand Snakes and, finally, Oberyn Martell was avenged as well.

She knew she had gained Ellaria’s loyalty for this, just like Yara’s when she had delivered on her promise to help her kill Euron Greyjoy, but would their loyalty remain steady when Jon would be revealed as the son of her brother?

When Daenerys had woken up from that horrible nightmare, that vision of the future, she had sworn to herself that she would sail to Westeros just to defeat Cersei, Euron and the Night King and then she would leave the throne to Jon and return to Essos. She had been sure of it. But that certainty had wavered since she had won the throne. It wasn’t so easy to walk away.

She was plagued by doubts. Was it the right course of action? For her to just leave it all behind and return to Dragon’s Bay? Leave the throne to someone who didn’t even want it? Would that be the best thing for the realm?

Or was she lying to herself? Making up excuses just so she could hold on to the power she had amassed in such short amount of time?

She liked it. She liked being Queen, sitting on the Iron Throne of her ancestors, watching the people bow when she entered a room, hearing them call her ‘your Grace’ and ‘my Queen’ with reverence, awe and fear. And that was dangerous. She knew it was.

Ruling didn’t make her happy. It wasn’t something that filled the emptiness inside her, that void for home and family that had haunted and hunted her all her life. But it did bring her satisfaction and a certain kind of contentment.

She liked the power she had but most of all, she liked the power she had _because_ she could use it to help others, giving them the power over their own lives that they had always lacked, making sure her subjects were happy and fed and warm at night and not slaves to the privileged nobles who cared nothing for them, who used them to gain more and more power and riches for themselves.

She wanted to gain the love and loyalty of the common people. She was desperate for it. But would they ever love her like they loved her in Essos? Or was Cersei right? That she would never belong here, no matter how much her heart yearned for it?

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what was right. She knew Jon was a good man, honourable to his very bone but was an honourable man the right person to be King? Would an honourable man being able to keep the peace? Bring prosperity to the ream? Break the wheel?

Jorah had told her once that she would be both loved and feared. Daenerys knew she couldn’t rule only with love or only with fear. A balance of the two was necessary. She had no doubt that Jon Snow would be loved as King, but would he be feared? Enough to stop the other noble Houses from conspiring against him to gain power for themselves? Enough to stay their hand from trampling the weak and helpless like they had always done?

Would the wheel ever be broken with Jon Snow – Aegon Targaryen – as King?

When she had met him, she had thought him steady and true in his beliefs and, in a way, he was. But he had also let his family led him astray, sway his decisions, manipulate him. Jon Snow’s loyalty to his family was dangerous. He didn’t see them clearly. He couldn’t see Sansa Stark’s thirst for power, he couldn’t see Bran Stark’s manipulations, like a hidden conductor of a mummer’s show, he couldn’t see Arya Stark’s coldness and her distrust of anyone but those that carried the name Stark. For him, they were his siblings, his family and his loyalty to them was absolute.

Daenerys envied him that. The bond he had with his brother and sisters. It was something Daenerys had never known. In fact, the only thing that had come close, was Daenerys’ trust and love for Jon. She would have given up everything for him, done anything for him. Because she had loved him, because he was the only family she had left.

But Jon hadn’t shown her the same loyalty. He might have the Targaryen name but he was a Stark through and through.

Daenerys sighed and looked outside the balcony at the city sprawling below her. The moon shined high and bright over the red rooftops, caressing gently the stone and bricks, smoothing the rough edges.

Maybe she wasn’t been fair towards him. She knew he had been confused, lost when he had found out the truth about himself. And she hadn’t really helped matters. She hadn’t asked him how he was feeling, not once. It had been a difficult pill to swallow for her, finding out that there was someone else with Targaryen blood who had a better claim than hers. She had known what it had meant, for her, for him, for the realm. It had brought to the forefront the fear of her childhood. Running, hiding, sleeping on the streets, starving, never safe, without a home, always chased, unable to stay in one place for too long.

Taking the Iron Throne, becoming queen, that had been her whole life’s purpose. Everything she had been through, everything she had suffered, everything she had lost, it had been _all_ for that one goal. She had kept repeating herself that everything would be worth it, once she took the Iron Throne. It had been the light at the end of the long and terrifying and cold tunnel that had been her whole life.

The idea that someone who hadn’t suffered for being a Targaryen like she did, someone who hadn’t even known he was one, that he didn’t even _want_ to be one, who had rejected half of his blood, who didn’t even want the throne she had chased after her whole life, that that someone would be just handed over something that _belonged_ to her, because she had _bled_ and _lost_ and _suffered_ for it, it had been unbearable.

And it didn’t matter that that someone was someone she loved, or maybe it did in the way that it was even worse. Because she had wanted to share everything with him, everything she was and everything she owned and he had _rejected_ her. He had said he loved her and then had betrayed her in the same breath. He had said she was his queen but he had looked at her with distrust and disgust. She had offered him the world and herself, she had lost two dragons, half her armies, Jorah, Missandei, all to save him and his people, and he had repaid her with a knife in the heart.

Daenerys closed her eyes when tears started to fill her vision. She was a dragon. A dragon didn’t weep.

The scroll she had been holding on to this whole time fell to the floor. The King in the North had accepted her invitation to come to King’s Landing. In a few days’ time he would reach the capital.

Daenerys wasn’t ready to see him again. Every time she would think of him, it was like being stabbed all over again.

And yet, before anything else, Jon Snow was her family, her nephew, her brother’s son. It didn’t matter what she felt for him, what could have happened between them in another life. What mattered was that she wasn’t the Last Targaryen anymore.

She still didn’t know what she would do after the War against the Dead. She didn’t even know if she would survive it this time. After all, so many things had changed already, who was she to say that she would survive it this time around?

What she knew was that Jon Snow was a Targaryen, whether he liked it or not. And this time, she would be the one to tell him the truth and the one to show him what exactly it meant to be the blood of the dragon.


	8. Chapter 7

“Ellaria…I’m grateful for what you did for me. Helping me take King’s Landing with the Dornish Army.” Daenerys looked at the Dornish woman to figure out her reaction but Ellaria’s face was impassive. “But I can’t forget the fact that you’ve killed Prince Doran and his son, and an innocent girl, Lannister or not.”

“Technically I wasn’t the one to kill Trystane.” Ellaria merely said.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“You mean to execute me, your Grace?”

“No, you and Tyene, Nymeria and Obara are pardoned for these crimes. However, I can’t, in good conscience, leave you as the ruler of Dorne.”

“And who did you plan on choosing for the position as Prince…or Princess?”

“Oberyn Martell had more than three daughters, yes?” Daenerys asked.

Ellaria nodded and her impassive face gave away to satisfaction. “He did.”

“And who do you think, among Oberyn’s daughters, would be more suited to rule Dorne?”

Ellaria thought about it a moment before saying, “Sarella. She has always been smart, a sponge for knowledge really. In fact, she’s right now posing as an acolyte for the Citadel.”

Daenerys laughed at that. “Really? That’s interesting.”

“I think, with the right help, she could make a good ruler.”

“Good. Sarella it is then. And tell me, did Prince Doran have any other relatives that bear the Martell name?”

“Ser Manfrey Martell. He’s the castellan of Sunspear. He also has a son. Quentyn. He’s a few years older than you, I believe. Why do you ask?”

“Would Sarella be amenable to a marriage with this…Quentyn? She would take the name Martell from her husband and this marriage would lend legitimacy to her rule.”

“I believe she could be convinced in seeing the benefits of this union.”

“Perfect.”

* * *

“My Queen, I believe the time has come for you to choose the members of your Small Council.” Lord Tyrion said and Varys nodded his head in agreement.

“You’re right, Lord Tyrion. I had enough time to think about it and I think I’ve come to a decision.” Daenerys clasped her hands on the table and leaned slightly on the chair she was sitting on.

They were all sitting in the room in the Red Keep that was used for the meetings of the Small Council, beside her, all her advisors and representatives from the various regions of Westeros under her control were present.

“Well, Queen Yara Greyjoy…” Daenerys smiled at her. “You will be Master of Ships…if you’d be pleased in accepting the appointment, of course.”

Yara smiled at her. “I’d be honored, your Grace. But what about the Iron Islands?”

“Well, your brother will rule in your stead, of course. I doubt there’s someone more loyal to you than him. And you’ll be able to return to Pyke as many times as you want.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Yara bowed to her in respect.

“Lord Tyrion…you’ll be my Master of Coin. I don’t think there’s anyone more suited for the job than you.”

Lord Tyrion bowed his head to her in acknowledgement. He didn’t look disappointed, exactly, but not even particularly happy. Daenerys knew he was aspiring to the Hand of the Queen pin. But she had another person in mind for the job. And the choice should have been obvious from the start.

“Lord Varys…you’ll return to your usual duty as Master of Whisperers.” Lord Varys bowed his head to her as well. He seemed pleased. Well, that was good. Better having him on her side than against her. Still, that didn’t mean she trusted him.

“Ser Jorah…when he returns…will be appointed as the Lord Commander of my Queensguard, of course. And that reminds me…I’ll have to choose its members. I’d be happy to know your recommendations if you have any.” Daenerys said, her last words directed to everyone in the room.

A chorus of ‘Yes, your Grace’ answered her and then, when silence descended once again, she continued.

“Lord Tully, you’ll be my Master of Laws.” Daenerys said to the Riverlands’ lord. He still looked pale and emaciated but he was improving and he looked…happier and at peace after being reunited with his wife and son.

“Thank you, your Grace. You honour me.” Lord Edmure said, bowing his head in gratitude.

“After the terrible injustice done to you, I believe there’s no better person for the role. You’ll make sure others won’t ever have to live what you’ve been through.”

“No, your Grace. I mean…yes, your Grace. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good.” Daenerys nodded, pleased. “Now, the Grand Maester role will remain vacant, of course, until the Citadel sends us someone for the role. But I would like to add a few other roles to my council. I know the tradition has always been seven, for the seven gods of the Faith, but I’ve never been very religious…or very traditional…so I’ll create and appoint some new positions.

“First, Lord Gendry…you’ve lived all your life in Flea Bottom, among the poor. There’s no one better than you that would know the common people’s needs, what would improve their lives, make them better than the ones they’ve always known. If my people are not happy, I’m not happy. They’re my priority. And you will help me in this endeavor. You’ll be the very first…Master of Commoners the realm has ever seen.”

Gendry looked at her with such admiration in his eyes that Daenerys felt almost uncomfortable. “I—I…” He seemed incapable of voicing his thoughts. “I’ve never met a ruler like you before. I…I’m honored, your Grace. Truly. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “I know you won’t.” Then she turned towards Lady Olenna.

“Lady Olenna. The Reach is the most prosperous Region of the Seven Kingdoms. You are also cunning, wise and knowledgeable. You will be my Master of Grains. You will have the task of dealing with the food supplies in the capital but, most of all, you will manage the trade deals with the other Westerosi regions and with Essos. Nobody will ever starve under my reign if I have anything to say about it.”

Lady Olenna smirked in satisfaction. “I thank you, Your Grace. I’m very pleased with the position.”

“Good. Another thing, Lady Olenna. You will continue to be Lady of Highgarden and the Reach, of course. But since you will be spending most of your time in King’s Landing, and since you do need an heir after you…after you pass…I’d like to ask you to choose your successor now. Someone who will take care of the Reach in your absence.”

Lady Olenna nodded. “I have just the person in mind, your Grace. My son’s nephew.”

“Ser Garlan?” Daenerys asked.

“No, no. His older brother Willas. He’s always been a rather bookish and dull fellow but he has a good head on his shoulders, he’s smart. He will be a good lord.”

“Good. I trust your judgment.”

“Now, this last position is a little…peculiar and it concerns something rather delicate, maybe even controversial. But I’m a Queen and I won’t hide from this.”

“What are you referring to, my Queen?”

“Brothels.” Daenerys said and, like she was expecting, the men in the room appeared uncomfortable at her words. “Now, while I would like nothing more than to forbid brothels, I’m aware that I can’t do that. The brothels will stay open in the city but they won’t belong any longer to private citizens who will exploit young women to become richer and richer. Instead, they will belong to the Crown. The prostitutes will get to keep half of the profits – it’s only fair since they are the ones doing the actual work – and the remaining half will be used to pay the soldiers that will be employed for their sole protection. The women working in the brothels will be protected. No more allowing clients to abuse and mistreat them. They are not slaves or prisoners and they will not be treated as such any longer. They will live comfortably. They will be fed and they will be kept warm and safe and hopefully they will be, if not happy, at least content in their situation.”

Tyrion had his mouth hanging open and the other men in the room weren’t any better. Lady Olenna was nodding along though, Yara looked serious but interested and Ellaria was smirking.

“Now, I don’t mean to insult you, Ellaria, with this. But I was thinking that you would be the best person to oversee the situation in the brothels and make sure that everything will be as it should. You will be the Master of…Delights?”

Ellaria laughed. “I’m not offended at all, your Grace. I think this is a marvelous idea.”

Daenerys felt relieved at that. The last thing she wanted was to insult one of her allies. “Good. It’s settled then.” Then she turned towards her loyal Grey Worm and said, “Though I will hope there won’t be the need any longer…Grey Worm, you will be the Master of War. You will have the task to organize all our troops in case of an attack or, if we need to go to War.”

Grey Worm bowed to her deeply. “This one is always happy to serve Daenerys Jelmazmo.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “I’ve never met someone more loyal.”

“And now, for the most important position.” Daenerys took the golden pin she had initially made for Tyrion before leaving Meereen from the hidden pocket of her dress and stood up from the chair she was sitting on. She turned towards Missandei, who was standing by her side. “Missandei. There’s no one I trust more than you. You’ve been by my side since I took Astapor and now you’ve followed me into this foreign land and your loyalty for me, in all this time, has never wavered. You’re brave and probably the smartest and, at the same time, kindest person I’ve ever met. There’s no one else I could choose as Hand of the Queen but you.”

Missandei was looking at her with wide, tearful eyes. “My Queen…” She said, completely surprised by Daenerys’ words. “I don’t…are you sure about this? I’m not from this land…I…”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I’ve always asked for your counsel and you’ve never swayed me wrong. I think it’s time you start doing that in an official capacity.”

Missandei smiled at her. “I would be honored, my Queen.” Missandei knelt in front of her and Daenerys pinned the Hand brooch on her chest.

Yes, this…this was right.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly the Jonerys meeting yet but Jon is in King's Landing. I know that it feels like I'm stalling (and you may be right, a little) but I want the meeting to be perfect and for that to happen, I need to set everything just so. Hope you like this anyway! And thank you so much for your support, you have no idea how much it means to me. I've never written so much in such little time before and while I'm feeling really inspired by this story, part of the reason I've been able to write one chapter a day is because of all of you! So, thank you!

“You’ve given everyone a place in the small council but me, your Grace. I can’t help but feel a little hurt by that.”

Daenerys smiled at Daario. His bravado didn’t serve to cover the fact that he was really offended by her decision.

“I have another task for you, Daario Naharis. You will start training new soldiers. Some will serve as protectors for the prostitutes in the brothels and others will be employed in the new City Watch I plan on creating.”

“It will take time before they become proficient enough to fight.” Daario replied, but he seemed mollified by her decision.

“Everything worth obtaining requires time. In the meantime, my Unsullied and Dothraki will keep order in the city.” Daenerys said before adding, “Another thing. I want you to employ your men to search for healers – even those who have just basic knowledge of medicine – and scholars within the city, and even simply those who are already capable of reading, writing and counting. Don’t scare them, of course. Make sure they know no harm will come to them. Tell them I will need their services soon.”

“Of course, my Queen. Your every wish is my command.” His tone became suggestive once again.

Daenerys rolled her eyes. “You’re dismissed.”

Daario bowed to her and left the room but not before sending her one last comment, “I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that you weren’t made to sit in a chair and live in a palace. The Iron Throne suits you.”

Daenerys smiled. “Well, it was created by my ancestor. Just like everything else you see in this city. I supposed it’s only natural. Though I don’t know if that’s a good thing yet.”

“I think it is.”

* * *

“Do you have any news about a friend of mine, Archmaester Marwyn? Ser Jorah Mormont?” Daenerys asked the Archmaester the citadel had finally sent to cover the post of Grand Maester. Daenerys thought he was a fitting choice. Probably one of the few maesters in Old Town who weren’t intimidated by magic or her dragons. One of the few maesters who had actually gained a link of Valyrian steel.

“Oh, the fellow with the greyscale.” Marwyn chuckled. “Well, your Grace. Last I heard, he was cured and intent of reuniting with the Queen he loves and worships. He couldn’t stop singing your praises and, when he heard you had taken the capital, he sworn that no one was more fitting to rule than you and that he couldn’t wait to see you on the Iron Throne with his own eyes.”

Daenerys smiled. “Ser Jorah has always been very loyal to me.”

“And with good reason. From what I’ve seen you’re doing a marvelous job, your Grace.”

“Thank you…Grand Maester.” Daenerys said, “but now, have you found what I asked?”

“Yes, your Grace.” And with that, he retrieved from his pocket an old journal. “That’s the journal you asked. I won’t dare ask what you need it for. From the few pages I skimmed through, it sounds awfully boring.”

“You’ll soon see. Everyone will, sooner or later.”

* * *

It was past midday by the time the ship bearing the reversed Stark banner docked in front of the River Gate. The captain had found it difficult to maneuver the ship once they had reached Blackwater because of the impossibly large number of other ships floating on the bay, bearing the proud red and black Targaryen sigil but also the kraken of the Greyjoys, the golden flower of the Tyrells and the Red Sun of the Martells.

Jon had felt his apprehension growing the closer they had gotten to the capital and now he was barely able to keep himself still, a nervous energy infusing his body and making his hands tremble. He clenched his hands into fists and ordered himself to calm down.

He stood on deck with Davos at his side and looked ahead at the city. The sun shone bright and high in the sky, the hot weather of the south making him sweat already from underneath the furs Sansa had made for him and Jon noticed with some relief that, at least from there, it didn’t look like King’s Landing had sustained any great damage from the Dragon Queen’s invasion.

Three different, very loud and terrifying roars brought him out of his thoughts and Jon looked up on instinct, searching for the origin of the noise. And there, high in the sky, three enormous shapes that from so far away could be confused with impossibly large birds, were soaring over the city and for a moment the entire area of King’s Landing was covered in shadows.

Dragons. His mind told him helpfully. But even knowing the dragons were back, even knowing Daenerys Targaryen had brought them back to life after a century of extinction, even knowing, rationally, that he was going to see them by coming here, it was still something difficult to wrap his head around.

Jon realized then, that the child he had been, the one who had worshiped Aemon the Dragonknight and Daeron the Young Dragon, would have felt like he was living a dream come true. Dragons and a Targaryen dragonrider on the throne. One of the stories of his childhood, come to life.

But he was not that child anymore. And this Targaryen queen, this conqueror of cities, could turn out to be just as much a dangerous enemy as the Night King himself. She had gained so much power in so little time, it was honestly terrifying.

Jon had a certain idea in mind of how Daenerys Targaryen would look like. She probably looked tall and intimidating, built like a warrior. An image of Brienne of Tarth with silver hair and a crown on her head made his way into his mind and he almost laughed aloud.

“Well, if that wasn’t a show of power…” Davos said, looking up at the sky as well, “I will eat my own shoes.”

“She’s certainly letting us know that she can do whatever she wants with us and there would be no stopping her.” Jon said with an ironic tilt of the head.

“Just try not to piss her off, your Grace. I would really like not to be burnt alive or eaten by dragons.”

“I’ll try my best.” Jon smirked a little though, inside, the fear he was trying so hard to suppress, reared its ugly head. Not fear of dying, no. When you died once, death became less freighting somehow. No, he was afraid of what would happen to Sansa and the North if he failed in this mission. They needed Daenerys Targaryen, not as an enemy, but on their side, fighting with them against the army of the dead or everything would be lost.

As soon as the ship docked on the harbor, his Stark men descended, then Davos and then Jon himself. It was still weird, thinking about respecting all these ceremonies, but especially the idea that he was King in the North now, like Robb had been before him. Jon wasn’t used to interact with nobles, let alone royalty. When King Robert had come to Winterfell, he had been ordered to stay out of sight all the time. And now he was about to meet a Targaryen queen, like the ones of old like Visenya and Rhaenys, and he was supposed to convince her, not only not to attack the North, but to also gain her help in the fight against the Night King.

All of a sudden, he was filled with doubts. Was he the right person for this? He hasn’t ever been good at diplomacy. That was Sansa’s strength, not his. Maybe Sansa should have been here and not him.

But no, Sansa hadn’t even wanted him to go south and talk to the Dragon Queen. She didn’t understand the enemy, not like him. Sure, she believed him when he said that there was an army of dead men who would kill them all if they get past the Wall but she didn’t really _understand_ what it meant. Nobody could until they had seen them in person. It was just something too big for the human mind to contemplate.

And yet, he was supposed to convince Daenerys Targaryen of the danger, not only for the North, but all the realms, without a shred of proof? Only his word. That was all he had and it seemed such a pitiable thing to have.

It seemed like an impossible task. But what other choice did he have?


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, the highly anticipated meeting between Jon and Daenerys. I hope it lives up to the expectations. Just a warning, when I said there will be angst between them, I meant it. Things won't be easy between them. But they will get better, I promise.

"Send a message to the Iron Bank. Tell them to send a representative here, so that we can discuss the payment of the debt the crown owns them. You will be dealing with them personally, Lord Tyrion. I have the outmost faith in you." Daenerys smiled a little falsely at him but Tyrion didn't catch on her sarcasm – or he simply chose to ignore it – and simply nodded his head.

"Yes, your Grace." Then he added, "I imagine you will be using the gold you brought with you from Essos to repay the debt."

"Of course. I wouldn't want Lady Olenna to feel like I'm using her for her gold and resources. This is the Crown's responsibility and it will be the Crown that will deal with it."

"Wise choice, your Grace." Tyrion grinned at her. "Because that would also mean that, if the crown decides to ask for a loan, the Reach will be more receptive towards granting it, especially since you gave Lady Olenna such a powerful position in the Small Council. And that would also mean that you won't have to deal too much with the Iron Bank in the future. That will give you more power than your predecessors had for the last twenty years."

"I see your wits are still there. It's a relief. I was worried that I made the wrong choice in having you in my council." Daenerys said with a dry smile.

Tyrion looked a bit offended by her words but he didn't bite back. "Your Grace is all graciousness."

"Now, Lord Tyrion. You will also oversee the rebuilding of the walls and the King's Gate that I destroyed when I took the city. Later, once that is concluded, you will also see to the project and then rebuilding of the Sept of Baelor your dear sister destroyed. I want this city to return to the way it was before the Usurper stole it for himself. That will also offer new job opportunities for the people and it will give them something to do for the near future. Nobody likes being idle."

"At once, your Grace." Tyrion said. He was just about to stood up when there was a knock on the door and then one of the servants was informing her that her 'guests from the North' had just reached the city.

"You and Missandei will meet them in front of the gates. It will be good for them, seeing a familiar face. Hopefully, that will help in smoothing things over a little before the meeting."

Tyrion nodded and left the room with a bow and an uttered 'my Queen' but Daenerys' attention was already elsewhere.

Daenerys sighed and looked outside at her children flying through the clear blue sky, high enough that they wouldn't pose a danger to the city and yet still close enough that their shadows created a mantle that covered King's Landing's almost entire surface.

All the nervousness that she had tried to suppress before was resurfacing now, full force. He was here. He was finally here. And Daenerys was afraid, nay, terrified. Would she be able to keep her wits about her once she sees him in person? Or the pain and the betrayal and the love she still felt for him would be too much for her to bear?

* * *

 

As soon as all the men had put their feet on firm ground, a group of strangers made their way to meet them just in front of the Mud Gate. The only familiar face among them was Tyrion Lannister. Most of them were imposing, and honestly scary, Dothraki soldiers and a few Unsullied, their expressions seemingly carved on stone. There was a woman among them, beautiful and graceful, with dark skin and just as dark curly hair. The pin on her chest identified her as Hand of the Queen.

After the introductions – or the reunions as it was the case with Tyrion – were out of the way, the Queen's men led them inside the gates of King's Landing and into Fishmonger's Square. Jon was surprised to see that the market was bustling with activity, as if the city hadn't just been conquered by a Targaryen queen with dragons, as if the war hadn't touched them at all. Jon also wondered at the fact that there seems to be no sign at all that the city had been sieged. Whatever tactics Daenerys had used to take the city, she had done very little damage. That was a relief. Maybe they could reach an accord with her, maybe this trip wasn't for nothing after all.

They kept walking and saw other Unsullied and Dothraki soldiers and what he thought were Dothraki women, distributing food to the people. It was an odd sight but Jon immediately understood why, of all people, Daenerys had chosen these ones. It was a way to show the people of King's Landing that they didn't need to fear these foreign soldiers, that they wouldn't be harmed, that the Queen's men were there for their protection and comfort. It was a cunning move. And it seemed to be working because barely anyone flinched, as far as Jon could see, when approaching these foreign people. They even smiled and thanked them though they didn't linger too long in the Essosi's presence.

Jon turned to look at Davos and noticed that he had a very impressed look on his face. Jon felt the same way and he hadn't even met the Queen yet. If that was the way she ruled, Jon wasn't surprised she had gained so much power and so many followers.

Still, other tales he had heard about her made him wary. How she burned people alive with her dragons or fed people to them, how she had crucified the masters of Slaver's Bay. How she took whatever she wanted, no matter the cost.

They passed more people on the streets. Children laughing and playing, looking like they had not a concern in the world. Jon smiled at the sight.

For all that she had done, this Dragon Queen seemed to care about her people. So maybe, that was enough.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Jon and his entourage reached the Red Keep. They were led inside but not, as he was expecting, to the Throne Room, but to a private study. His soldiers were asked to wait outside and only he and Davos were allowed to enter. Not even Tyrion would be present during the meeting, only he and Daenerys, and their Hands, Davos and the woman called Missandei of Naath.

Jon wasn't expecting such an informal meeting but he wouldn't complain. It was a gesture of trust from the Queen that Jon wouldn't take lightly. And a private meeting would hopefully help him in explaining himself better. The topic of the army of the dead was a difficult one. A one on one meeting with the queen, without her court and advisors, was definitely preferable. Jon had never been very good at speaking in public after all.

As soon as he entered the room, he saw her. She was standing, her back to the windows and a small table with four chairs in front of her, wine and food spread out like in a feast. The morning sunlight hit her figure from behind and gave the illusion of a halo surrounding her.

The first thought that came to his head was that she was _small_. Jon hadn't expected her to be so small. Jon wasn't a tall man but this queen, this dragonrider, was _tiny_. Sansa, if she were here, would have towered above her.

And yet, what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in sheer presence. There was something about her that just lured you in, like a magnet that attracted everyone around her.

She wasn't only charismatic though. She was also beautiful, incredibly beautiful. This was definitely not the image he had painted in his mind when thinking of the Dragon Queen. She was ethereal, like she wasn't even from this world, with hair like spoon silver tied into intricate braids, skin like alabaster and alluring violet eyes. Jon couldn't stop looking at her.

He had heard tales of the Dragon Queen's beauty, of course. That she was considered the most beautiful woman in the world, but he hadn't believed them. He had simply thought they were propaganda, nothing more.

But _no_ , they hadn't been lies. Jon had seen many beautiful women in his life: Cersei, Catelyn Stark, his sister Sansa, Lady Melisandre. But they paled in comparison to her.

Jon was so intent on watching her that he almost missed what the Queen's Hand, Missandei, said. Almost.

Lady Missandei introduced her but she forwent all the titles that had been included in the letter she had sent him. Davos, in turn, introduced him. A simple, 'this is Jon Snow. He's King in the North'. Neither of them was much keen on formalities.

Daenerys smiled at them, all graciousness and courteousness, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I thank you for traveling so far, King in the North. I hope the seas weren't too rough."

Jon smiled back at her. "The winds were kind, you Grace."

Daenerys gestured for them to sit down, first Davos and Lady Missandei and then the two sovereigns after that.

"I'm sure you are aware of the reason why I called you here." Daenerys said without preambles.

"You want the North." Jon said, just as direct.

Daenerys grinned ferally at him, like a dangerous animal playing with their prey, or maybe, simply like one of her dragons, and Jon found himself struggling to focus.

"Not just the North. The Vale as well."

"I'm not here to bend the knee." Jon told her forcefully, maybe a little too forcefully. He didn't like the way he was reacting to her, the way a smile or a look from her could almost making him lose his wits. Jon had always been rather immune to women's beauty. He noticed it, of course, but it didn't affect him. Not the way it did others. So why was he reacting like this to her? "I didn't come here to give the North up to a…" he stopped himself before he could finish the sentence but it was too late.

Daenerys' eyes turned even colder. "A foreign invader? Is that what you were going to say? Or were you going to use the more colorful moniker I heard people using…a foreign whore?"

Jon was horrified at his faux-pass. Did he just ruin all chances of a treaty between them before they even really started the discussion? He didn't even have the time to tell her about the army of the dead. Was she going to bring war to the North because of what he just did?

"My King didn't mean to offend you, your Grace." Ser Davos said, trying to salvage the situation.

Daenerys laughed, a tinkling laugh that was mesmerizing to hear, and yet, chilly as well in a way. Damn, but she was scary. "Oh, I'm not offended. I know what some people think of me. The Mad King's daughter. It's fine. They will change their minds about me, eventually. Or they won't. It doesn't matter to me either way." Her expression turned serious then, "If you're not here to bend the knee, then _why_ are you here? Why accept to come at all?"

This was his opening. This was his chance to get the help his people needed. _Just don't screw this up_ , his mind whispered unhelpfully.

* * *

 

Daenerys listened, face impassive but inside a nervous mess, as Jon Snow explained about the threat beyond the Wall, about the Night King. Daenerys played along and asked for more information, her expression giving nothing away.

Jon told her about Hardhome as well, something he hadn't recounted to her on their first meeting but during one of the many nights they had spent talking and making love on that ship headed north. The memory of it hurt – not a memory, in truth, and yet…

When Jon Snow finished talking, silence descended. Jon looked at her nervously, waiting for her reaction. A word from her could break him.

"I believe you, Jon Snow." Daenerys merely said.

"I…I know it's difficult to believe…I know it seems mad but…" Then he stopped, finally registering her words, his eyes now wide. "You do?"

"Yes, I believe you, King in the North." Daenerys said, voice cold. “You see, you could say I have…prophetic dreams. And I’ve seen these white walkers you’re talking about. And the Night King. Beings made completely of Ice with terrifying blue eyes. A veritable sea of mindless, rotten corpses. I will not have such a threat in my kingdom. I am protector of the realm, and I intend to live up to this title. So, I'll help you defeat them. The White Walkers and the Army of the Dead are a problem that concerns all the Kingdoms, not just the North. However, while my armies and my dragons answer only to me, if you want help from the rest of Westeros, you will have to be the one to convince them of the threat. I'll help you, of course, as much as I can, in having their support, but, at the end of the day, the decision of going to war against the dead is theirs to make."

Jon looked at her like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I…I don't know what to say, your Grace. Thank you." The familiar look of awe and gratitude reached his eyes and Daenerys almost turned away. She didn't want him to look at her that way. She hated that look.

"You told me dragonglass, valyrian steel and fire are the only thing capable of destroying the dead?"

"Yes, your Grace." Then he hesitated a little before speaking, "My friend, Samwell Tarly, he told me there's a large deposit of dragonglass at Dragonstone. I was wondering…"

"I will send men to mine the dragonglass immediately. I presume the men you brought will want to help as well?"

"Yes, your Grace. I should be there as well."

"No, you won't. You will stay here. As my guest. There's much we need to discuss yet and I'm sure our men are perfectly capable of working, even without you."

Jon looked like he was about to protest but a look from his advisor, Davos, and he nodded his head in acquiesce. "Very well, your Grace. I'll stay here." Then he added, expression of gratitude and relief returning, "I thank you for your help, your Grace, truly. The North will not forget this."

"Not so fast, King in the North." Daenerys said, wanting to squash that expression off his face. "I told you that I want the North and the Vale and I meant it."

Jon's expression turned wary. "You don't mean to withheld your help until I bend the knee? Because, I already told you, you'd be waiting in vain."

Daenerys grinned at him. "Not at all, my help is offered without any conditions." Jon's expression turned confused and then, horrified, once he heard the rest of her words. "However, once the war is over, if we're all still here, if you intend to keep your independence, you'll be _completely_ independent. The North will be cut off from the other kingdoms. No one from the other regions will trade with you because that's what I will order. You will have to count only on _your_ resources to survive. Not even the Free Cities or Dragon's Bay will trade with you if I say so."

Jon looked at her, disgusted and angry. "Why would you do this?"

"Why? Because there must always be a price to pay and I won't be the one to pay it alone." _This time_ , her mind finished the sentence. "I will be the one who will put my own people and my dragons, my children, in danger to save _your_ people and _your_ land. I will be paying _this_ price but you, I'll make sure you'll pay your own price as well. Or…you could just bend the knee. This way the North will be part of the Seven Kingdoms again and I will be duty-bound to protect all people in the North from starvation as well as the army of the dead. And, it goes without saying, that I want the Vale, whether or not you decide to bend the knee to me."

"You've said it yourself. The Army of the Dead is a problem that concerns all."

"It is. And I've already told you that I will fight them with you. But why should I concern myself with the fate of the North after the war is won? Why should I care about a region that I don't rule?"

"You would let hundreds of thousands of people die of starvation after saving them from the army of the dead?" Jon's voice was harsh and cold with barely restrained fury. Daenerys almost smirked. So, there _was_ something of a dragon in him after all.

"The common people are free to leave the North and move south, the Wildings as well if they want. They will be welcomed here with open arms. They will become my subjects and my responsibility then, and, therefore, they will be under my protection. Your lords, on the other hand…I know they will never leave their castles. Too prideful and stubborn. Still, I can't say that I particularly care. The ones born in privilege do not understand that there are more important things than keeping your power intact. If they want to die in their own castles and keeps, that's their choice."

"You aren't leaving me much of a choice, your Grace." The title rang with disdain and mockery. Daenerys reveled in it. Maybe if he hated her, it would be easier for her to hate him as well, to stop loving him.

"Oh, you _do_ have a choice. You just need to accept the consequences of that choice as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm leaving this note to answer to two reviews I've received. I think everyone should read my answer because I know other people think the same. It's about the North and the idea of the North being able to stay independent without starving. 
> 
> The reviews I've received are this:
> 
> 'You're aware that the only province in Westeros that doesn't feed itself is the Crownlands right? The north has no need for Southern food. Its has enough on its own and its logistically impossible to feed the North with Southern food. Besides, its not like the North merely takes and doesn't give. Its Westeros' only source of Ironwood, which is crucial for the production of ships, shields and buildings and is a major source of Westeros' iron supply and is the major source of proper fur clothing which is vital in winter, making a trade embargo on the North something that would immediately get Dany overthrown. I'm fine with Dany embargoing the North, but don't pretend she gets nothing out of trading with the North because she does.'
> 
> 'I don't like the assumptions and unasked questions in this chapter. Why will the North starve without Dany when the Free Folk never did? Jon hand waving away the thought that the North might be able to get by is the exact kind of story telling that defined GOT S8 - lack of communication and assumptions that appear to ignore previously established plot elements.'
> 
> It seems that, since season6, when Jon was crowned King in the North, there's this idea of wanting the North to be independent. But is that really feasible? 
> 
> I've look in the Wiki on Ice and Fire to see what it says about the North: 
> 
> 'The north is strongly affected during the long winters, with thousands of people killed and famine a common occurrence due to poor harvests before winter or the inability to raise crops during the longer winters that last for years on end. Some greater lords maintain greenhouses at their castles, such as the glass gardens of Winterfell.[20]
> 
> Once autumn is declared by the Citadel, the lords of the north store away a part of the grain they have harvested. How much is a matter of choice; between one fifth and one fourth seems prudent, however. Additionally food is smoked, salted, and otherwise preserved ahead of winter. Coastal communities depend on fish and inland ice fishing is common on the rivers and Long Lake. Poor harvests before winter will mean famine, however.
> 
> In winter, snows can fall forty feet deep. Rain falls cold and hard, and sometimes turns into hail that can send men running for cover and ruin crops. Even during summer, snowfalls are not unusual but tend to be brief and not particularly damaging to agriculture.'
> 
> Now imagine, they spent years that they were supposed to put aside food for the winter, fighting in the War of the Five Kings. Not only that, but first the Ironborns and then the Boltons came and we know what happened. How much do you think they have in storage now for food? I imagine, very little. I'm going to completely ignore what happens in season8 with Sansa magically able to feed the population without help from the South because, aside from the glassgarden, where the hell did she get the food from? 
> 
> Winter is here, as we know and they have very little food now. If Daenerys stops all trade and leave them to their own devices, in a few years, if they last that long, they are all going to starve. It's a fact, not an assumption. Even if the trade roots are open, they have few little resources to trade in the first place. 
> 
> They have a particular wood, ironwood I was told, but really, is that a good the other Kingdoms find essential, that they can't do without? I don't think so. If the other kingdoms can't buy ironwood, they will have to do with other woods like oak and it will be fine anyway. They have animals that give them furs but really, wolf fur is not a fine fur, neither is bear or whatever. The best furs are from foxes, rabbits etc and they have those animals in the south as well. They have wool but so have the rest of the kingdoms. The ale they produce is not very good. It's not Arbor Gold or the Dornish reds. In short, they have nothing to trade that is essential and particularly sought after in the rest of the Kingdoms.
> 
> Not only that, they had a fleet once but Brandon the Burner destroyed it and it was never rebuilt after that, even knowing the Ironborns are there, attacking their coasts. Not only they don't have resources, but the few they have (like wood) they can't even take advantage of. Everything that could bring them a few more coins to, you know, feed their population, they call it 'southern ambition' and dismiss it completely. Not only the Northern Lords are stubborn in the worst possible way, but they are not particularly smart either.
> 
> So please, put aside your 'ideals' about the North being independent and think if, practically, it would actually work. I think not.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry I didn't update yesterday but it was the one-year anniversary of my grandma's death and I wasn't really in the mood to write. Hope you like this chapter and, don't worry, I will still try to update every day.
> 
> \- BTW, I've received some reviews about the whole 'Northern Independance' debate. At the end of this chapter is my answer.
> 
> Here are the reviews:
> 
> 'You're aware that the only province in Westeros that doesn't feed itself is the Crownlands right? The north has no need for Southern food. Its has enough on its own and its logistically impossible to feed the North with Southern food. Besides, its not like the North merely takes and doesn't give. Its Westeros' only source of Ironwood, which is crucial for the production of ships, shields and buildings and is a major source of Westeros' iron supply and is the major source of proper fur clothing which is vital in winter, making a trade embargo on the North something that would immediately get Dany overthrown. I'm fine with Dany embargoing the North, but don't pretend she gets nothing out of trading with the North because she does.'
> 
> 'I don't like the assumptions and unasked questions in this chapter. Why will the North starve without Dany when the Free Folk never did? Jon hand waving away the thought that the North might be able to get by is the exact kind of story telling that defined GOT S8 - lack of communication and assumptions that appear to  
> ignore previously established plot elements.'
> 
> 'So, I understand what you’re saying. But, the north was independent for hundreds of years before Aegon. Still a good story so far though.'

Daenerys watched Jon storming out of the room, his loyal Hand Davos following behind. She ordered a servant to show them to their rooms and then she was left alone with Missandei.

She turned towards her loyal friend and asked her, “Did you think I was too harsh, my dear Missandei?” Daenerys wasn’t having doubts exactly but she wondered if she was letting personal feelings cloud her judgement, something a queen should never allow herself to do.

“Maybe in your tone, your Grace. But not in your meaning. It’s unfair of them to ask you everything you have and give nothing in return. After all, what else are you asking from them but their loyalty, in exchange for your help? It’s not an outrageous thing to ask.”

Daenerys smiled at her, feeling reassured. “Thank you, Missandei.”

Before Missandei could answer anything more, the door opened – almost banging against the wall – and a frantic Tyrion entered the room, uninvited.

Daenerys glared at him but Tyrion wouldn’t be cowed. “What happened? What did you say to him?” He looked at her like he was scolding a child. How many times had he looked at her that way? Both in her dreams and before, while in Meereen? Tyrion kept saying he believed in her but Daenerys wondered if he simply believed he could control her.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Lord Tyrion.” She said, her tone frosty. “Let’s just say that the King in the North wasn’t exactly happy with some of the terms I put forth for our alliance. He will get over it. And if not…well…”

Tyrion looked far from reassured. “Please, your Grace. Don’t tell me you plan on going to war with the North. Because I’m sure there are better ways for you to…”

“I don’t plan anything of the sort, Lord Tyrion.” Daenerys interrupted him. “In fact, I offered my help.”

Tyrion frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Daenerys smiled at him, but it wasn’t a sweet or happy smile. “You will.”

Tyrion opened his mouth, about to ask for more information no doubt, but Daenerys didn’t give him the time. “Leave me, now, Lord Tyrion. I will call for you when I have need of you.”

Tyrion sighed but bowed and left the room.

* * *

“She’s strong-arming us into bending the knee.” Jon said, almost ripping the furs off his shoulders in his fury before throwing them on the back of the writing desk chair. He started pacing, unable to stay still. The rooms they had given to him were fit for a King but Jon barely even noticed them. “She’s using her power and influence to force us into submission. That’s the behaviour of a tyrant.”

“Well, yes.” Davos said, voice as calm and jovial as ever. He didn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon thought he should be. “She struck a hard bargain…but she’s not wrong.”

“What?” Jon turned towards Davos so fast, his neck hurt.

Davos shrugged from the armchair he was sitting on. “It’s like she said. She’s putting her people and her dragons in danger to save strangers. She wants the reassurance that it wouldn’t be all for naught if the worst were to happen. What happens if she loses her armies and her dragons and the North still refuses to bend the knee to her? Don’t you think that’s asking a little too much of a person, even one as formidable and powerful as the Dragon Queen? And really, she did say that he would make you Warden of the North, if you swear fealty. That’s not a bad deal, if I say so myself. In fact, not even Stannis would have been this generous.”

“Generous? She’s threatening the north with starvation.” Jon tried to lower his voice but his blood was boiling.

“She offered her help in defeating the army of the dead with no strings attached.” Davos replied in a calm and soothing voice, like one would talk to a child who was being particularly unreasonable. “She also said that she would help you convince the rest of Westeros in helping you. You could have not only Daenerys’ armies and dragons fighting against the Night King but the rest of the Westerosi army as well. That’s more help than you ever thought possible, is it not? And all she’s asking in return is your loyalty. I mean, it’s not unreasonable. You can’t really expect her to help you win the war against the dead and then feed you after as well. She’s a Queen, not a fool.” Davos said, looking him straight in the eye, almost as if he was trying to make his point across by drilling directly into his head. “And since when do you care about Northern independence anyway? I thought the point of you retaking Winterfell and reuniting the North was specifically to fight the army of the dead, not as a personal war against the south.”

Jon took a few seconds before he was finally able to calm down and think rationally. He didn’t even know why he had gotten so worked up. There was something about Daenerys Targaryen that infuriated him and set his blood on fire. “You’re right, of course, Davos. But the Northern lords will never accept a southern ruler, especially if that ruler is a Targaryen. They’re too stubborn and proud. In that, Daenerys is perfectly right.”

“So proud and stubborn that they would prefer to die than getting help from a Targaryen?”

“Yes.” Jon said with certainty. “And Sansa along with them. If I tell Sansa that I had to bend the knee because, otherwise, the North will die of starvation after the war because the south will not help us, Sansa would reply that I shouldn’t have bent the knee and that we would have managed somehow. For all her intelligence, Sansa doesn’t really understand what it takes to rule. Not that I really do either but…”

“Then you will have to force them to accept it, your Grace. If they can’t be reasoned with, then they will be cowered into comply. Eventually, they won’t have a choice but to accept the situation.”

“They will be resentful.” Jon said, though he knew Davos was right.

“Undoubtedly. They will grumble and threaten rebellion but, in the end, they will accept the situation because they have no other choice.” He seemed to hesitate but then he decided to add whatever was on his mind. “As long as you keep a hold on your sister. Her influence over the northern lords and the Vale is great. If she decides that you’re not fit to rule anymore because you’re not thinking about the interests of the North, she could decide to seize the northern crown for herself.”

“Sansa wouldn’t betray me.” Jon immediately said.

“With all due respect, your Grace, but you don’t know what she would do. Lady Stark is a good girl, but she’s also stubborn. If she thinks she’s right and that you’re not listening to her, are you ready to swear that she wouldn’t do anything rushed?”

Jon wished he could do that but, the truth was, he wasn’t so sure. Jon loved Sansa, she was his family. And he knew Sansa loved him as well. But did she trust him? Since the two of them had been reunited, they had done nothing but argue. Jon could understand that Sansa, after all that she had been through, would find it difficult to trust people in general but he wasn’t just anyone, was he? He was her brother. Didn’t he deserve a little faith from his own sister?

“I don’t know, Davos. I don’t know what’s the best solution here. It’s not only about the northerners’ stubbornness, it’s also the fact that I don’t _know_ Daenerys Targaryen. How can I just accept to leave the fate of the North in her hands if I don’t know her? What if she turns out to be as bad as her father?”

“Maybe you should try to get to know her, then, your Grace. After all, she did give you time to decide what to do about the North after the war against the dead is over, no? I say that you should try to spend as much time with her as possible. And maybe, the idea of a marriage alliance between you could be brought forth…hum?” That last part was said in a suggestive tone. “After all, I really doubt you would be too oppose to the idea of marrying her, eh?”

Jon scoffed and deflected to answer. “She’s insufferable. The most arrogant person I’ve ever met.”

“Come on, your Grace. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at her when you entered the room.”

“That was before she opened her mouth.” Jon said with a grunt. He was embarrassed but didn’t want to admit it.

“What are you more irritated about? The fact that she basically backed you into a corner or that she played you with extreme ease?” Davos outright laughed at his misfortune.

Jon couldn’t help but grin as well. “She’s very shrewd, I have to admit that. It’s not only her military power that makes her extremely dangerous, it’s her mind as well.”

“Am I wrong or are you…impressed by her?”

Jon shrugged. “Maybe a little. I’m not surprised anymore that she conquered so many cities and accumulated so much power now. It’s definitely not only because she has dragons.”

Davos chuckled. “Well, I’ll say the time we’ll spend in King’s Landing will be interesting, at least, don’t you think?”

Jon nodded. “Certainly not boring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that, since season6, when Jon was crowned King in the North, there's this idea of wanting the North to be independent. But is that really feasible?
> 
> I've look in the Wiki on Ice and Fire to see what it says about the North:
> 
> 'The north is strongly affected during the long winters, with thousands of people killed and famine a common occurrence due to poor harvests before winter or the inability to raise crops during the longer winters that last for years on end. Some greater lords maintain greenhouses at their castles, such as the glass gardens of Winterfell.
> 
> Once autumn is declared by the Citadel, the lords of the north store away a part of the grain they have harvested. How much is a matter of choice; between one fifth and one fourth seems prudent, however. Additionally food is smoked, salted, and otherwise preserved ahead of winter. Coastal communities depend on fish and inland ice fishing is common on the rivers and Long Lake. Poor harvests before winter will mean famine, however.
> 
> In winter, snows can fall forty feet deep. Rain falls cold and hard, and sometimes turns into hail that can send men running for cover and ruin crops. Even during summer, snowfalls are not unusual but tend to be brief and not particularly damaging to agriculture.'
> 
> Now imagine, they spent years that they were supposed to put aside food for the winter, fighting in the War of the Five Kings. Not only that, but first the Ironborns and then the Boltons came and we know what happened. How much do you think they have in storage now for food? I imagine, very little. I'm going to completely ignore what happens in season8 with Sansa magically able to feed the population without help from the South because, aside from the glassgarden, where the hell did she get the food from?
> 
> Winter is here, as we know and they have very little food now. If Daenerys stops all trade and leave them to their own devices, in a few years, if they last that long, they are all going to starve. It's a fact, not an assumption. Even if the trade roots are open, they have few little resources to trade in the first place.
> 
> They have a particular wood, ironwood I was told, but really, is that a good the other Kingdoms find essential, that they can't do without? I don't think so. If the other kingdoms can't buy ironwood, they will have to do with other woods like oak and it will be fine anyway. They have animals that give them furs but really, wolf fur is not a fine fur, neither is bear or whatever. The best furs are from foxes, rabbits etc and they have those animals in the south as well. They have wool but so have the rest of the kingdoms. The ale they produce is not very good. It's not Arbor Gold or the Dornish reds. In short, they have nothing to trade that is essential and particularly sought after in the rest of the Kingdoms.
> 
> Not only that, they had a fleet once but Brandon the Burner destroyed it and it was never rebuilt after that, even knowing the Ironborns are there, attacking their coasts. Not only they don't have resources, but the few they have (like wood) they can't even take advantage of. Everything that could bring them a few more coins to, you know, feed their population, they call it 'southern ambition' and dismiss it completely. Not only the Northern Lords are stubborn in the worst possible way, but they are not particularly smart either.
> 
> Also, the whole argument, 'but the North was independent for thousands of years before the Targaryens' doesn't really work. How did they fare while independent? Did they live in prosperity and richness? No. In fact, if you remembered Old Nan's stories about the Winter, you would remember that mothers would smother their newborn children in their sleeps, so they wouldn't get hungry and men would go 'hunting' and never return, sacrificing themselves to the harsh weather just so there were fewer mouths left to feed. So, the situation while they were independent was horrible. They starved more often than not. I don't see why they would want to go back to that.
> 
> I did my research, so unless you have valid arguments that proves that the North would really survive on their own without half their population (mostly the commonfolk since they are the ones who always have it worse) starving, and that they would be better off independent (and when I mean indepedent, I mean it, since Daenerys is not obligated to trade with them) instead of part of the Seven Kingdoms ruled by Daenerys, please, put aside your 'ideals' about the North being independent and think if, practically, it would actually work. I think not.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, new chapter. Hope you like it! And there's a little reference to the famous spanish leaks that never happened that I thought you would appreciate.

“Your Grace, the sword you’ve requested,” The Meereenese blacksmith that had joined her in King’s Landing a few short weeks ago said to her in bastard Valyrian, “It’s ready.” He bowed before her, holding the cloth wrapping in his hands and presenting it to her.

Hirak was originally from Qohor and he had been a slave once, but she had freed him when she had taken Meereen. He had worked for his master to produce weapons. His work had been renowned all over Slaver’s Bay. He was one of the few people alive who knew how to rework Valyrian steel.

Before leaving Meereen, Daenerys had tasked some of her people to scout the Free Cities for valyrian steel pieces – whatever they could get their hands on, daggers, knives, pieces of armours, even swords if they could find any – both to be reforged in the sword she wanted and also, if some were left, to give to her men in preparation for the war against the army of the dead. They hadn’t found much, valyrian steel was extremely rare, but they had found enough to create for her the weapon she wanted: a scimitar, shorter than a longsword but longer than a shortsword, with a light and thin blade with a curved ending and the silver hilt, painted in black and in the shape of a dragon with a ruby stone in the pommel.  

 _(This is more or less how I imagine Dany's sword. Link in case you can't see it here: https://i.imgur.com/H9q9f3L.jpg)_

When Hirak unwrapped the sword to show it to her, Daenerys almost gasped. It was perfect. Even better than she had imagined it. Daenerys took it in her hand. It felt right. Light and slender, easily to manoeuvre and perfectly balanced.

“I thank you, Hirak. This is marvellous work. You’ll be handsomely compensated for it.” Daenerys smiled at him.

The Qohori blacksmith bowed to her. “I thank you, my Queen. I’m always happy to serve the Breaker of Chains.” He bowed to her one last time before leaving the room.

Daenerys was left alone with her thoughts after that.

Since before leaving Meereen, she had started to train every morning, very early, for three hours. She would spar with Daario, Grey Worm and Qhono, learning something different from each of them since they had three completely different fighting styles. She was still far from being a proficient, after all, she had started to learn how to use a sword only five moons ago. But she was catching up quickly. She was light and quick on her feet and knew instinctually how to use that to her own advantage. She wasn’t good enough to beat anyone in combat yet, but she knew that she could hold her own against the wights at least and that was what was most important at the moment.

Thinking about the war against the dead made her thoughts drift to Jon Snow. She hadn’t seen him in two days, too preoccupied with ruling affairs to deal with the King in the North at the moment. Those two days had served to give her some perspective on things.

She had realized that she had been too harsh on him. She didn’t regret posing that ultimatum about the North, after all she needed to protect her own people and her own interests, but maybe she could have been kinder about it. It was stupid, wanting him to hate her.

He wasn’t just Jon Snow, a man that in another life could have been her lover and then her killer, he was also the King in the North, an ally that she needed and also, Aegon Targaryen, her nephew and the only family she had left. She couldn’t afford to alienate him. They needed to build an amicable relationship, at the very least.

Loving Jon Snow as a lover was a mistake, she knew that now. But she could love him as a family member. She _needed_ to love him as a family member and not let grievances of a future that never will be, influence the way she behaved towards him now.

She had also come to another realization. She didn’t want to give up the throne.

Maybe it was selfish of her. Maybe she had become too attached to the power she had. But she couldn’t stand the idea of coming this far, and then just give it all up to a man that not only didn’t want it but that she wasn’t sure was what the realm needed.

It wasn’t just about birthright anymore. It was about the vision she had for the future and she wanted to see that vision come true.

Yes, maybe this land will never become her home but it didn’t matter anymore. She had a responsibility to the people and she had every intention of fulfilling that responsibility for as long as she would be alive.

Still, she would make Jon Snow her heir. He was the natural choice. The only one of her blood still alive and since she couldn’t have children, he would marry and produce children of his own blood and those children would be her heirs.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door.

“Come in.” Daenerys called out and the door opened.

Grand Maester Marwyn entered the room and bowed to her. “Forgive me for the intrusion, your Grace, but there’s something that I think you should see.”

Daenerys looked at the old maester with curiosity. “What is it?”

Marwyn came closer to her and handed her the document he was holding. “I found this while going through the old papers from before and during the Rebellion, when the Targaryens still ruled Westeros. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t miss anything important so that I could serve you to the best of my abilities. And…well…I found this. I don’t believe it will be of fundamental importance to you now but I thought you should see it anyway.”

Daenerys lowered her eyes to the document, taking it from Marwyn’s hands and widening her eyes when she saw what it contained.

It was a written decree, signed by her father, that appointed Viserys Targaryen as his heir, and all offspring that could follow from the union of him and his wife would be recognized as heirs in the case of Viserys’ demise (the male heirs would take precedence), and that removed all of Rhaegar’s children from the line of succession because not considered by the crown and she quoted ‘real, pureblooded Targaryens’.

“Of course, it doesn’t really matter since you are the Last Targaryen after all.” Marwyn continued, “but I thought it would be good of you to know that you _are_ the legitimate heir in any case, even if the children of your brother had survived the Rebellion.”

Daenerys was astonished, and frankly, she didn’t know what to say. “My father was mad though…” Daenerys said, after long seconds of silence. “I doubt the other lords would have recognized such a thing as legitimate.”

“Mad or not, your Grace, your father was _still_ the King and it was in his right to decide who would be his heir after the Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the throne perished.”

“I…I…” Daenerys stuttered a little. “I thank you, Grand Maester, for showing me this. I would like to be left alone now.”

Marwyn bowed, “Of course, your Grace.” And with that, he left her to her tumultuous thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I received some comments about Aerys’ decree, and that some are saying that it won’t ever be accepted and that Jon is the rightful heir anyway because a man always come before a woman, I have to tell you, no, you’re wrong and that’s why:
> 
> If you don’t accept Aerys’ decree then you shouldn’t even accept Rhaegar annulling his marriage to Elia. He did it in the show but that doesn’t mean that he could do it and that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would accept it as such. Rhaegar wasn't even the King at the time, he was a Prince. Even more reason why he would have never been able to do it if the show had followed the reality of the universe George RR Martin created. Elia was a princess of Dorne who gave Rhaegar two children and one of those children was a male heir. Rhaegar had no basis to annul his marriage to her and therefore, it shouldn’t have happened and it would have never been accepted anyway. In fact, I’m rather sure that George RR Martin would never go for it. The High Septon would have never accepted such a thing. At the most, Rhaegar could have taken Lyanna as his second wife but even that has its own problems because the Faith of the Seven wouldn't have recognized it and most people in the Kingdoms wouldn't have either. Elia was not a commoner, she wasn’t Jenny of Oldstone, she was a Princess for fuck’s sake. Why are you so quick to believe that Rhaegar could have annulled his marriage to a princess of Dorne because he felt like it but you can’t believe that people would accept a decree made by the King? 
> 
> You can’t have it both ways. You either accept that Rhaegar annulled his marriage but then you also have to accept that Aerys’ decree is valid and it’s a decree that disinherited Rhaegar’s entire line, Jon included, or you don’t, but then you will have to admit that Jon isn't a legitimate Targaryen but a bastard because Rhaegar’s marriage with Lyanna wasn’t valid. 
> 
> Also this, from a Wiki of Ice and Fire. 'A king or lord can also name another as his heir (e.g. King Aerys II Targaryen naming his younger son Viserys Targaryen as his heir over his grandson Aegon Targaryen following the death of his eldest son, Rhaegar, Aegon’s father,[44] or Lord Walder Frey’s threats to name his youngest son as his heir, passing over all other sons and (great)grandsons.[29]). However, even in such cases, claims might still be made later on.' So, you see, King Aerys was perfectly in his rights to choose Viserys over Aegon as his heir, since he was the King. And since Daenerys is now Queen, what she says goes. It's nothing like the Dance of Dragons because the lords are not the ones deciding who shall rule. The lords have no power here. The lords have the power Daenerys decides they can have and no more. 
> 
> I’m tired of this argument. I think some of you are being very hypocritical and you’re being like this because you simply can’t accept that Daenerys may be the rightful heir and not Jon. You can’t accept that Daenerys has more right to the throne than Jon. Is it because she's a woman and you can't accept the fact that a woman could have more right than a man to a throne?
> 
> That’s your choice but mine is to write my story as I see fit, so stop writing comments about Jon being the rightful heir anyway because he’s not.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter and lots of Gendry in this one but not Jonerys interaction yet. You'll have to wait for the next chapter for that.

“Thank you for joining me, Lord Gendry.” Daenerys said as soon as Gendry entered the room.

“Of course, your Grace.” The young Baratheon said, bowing to her. He joined her at the table she was sitting on. “Would you like to join me in breaking fast?”

Gendry looked nervous. “Huh, sure, your Grace.”

They ate in silence for a while. Daenerys was trying to make him relax a little but she could see Gendry was still tense. “Have I done something to displease you, your Grace?” He asked, then, breaking the silence.

Daenerys looked at him in surprise. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

Gendry shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just so new to all this. I don’t know if what I’m doing is right.”

“You’re doing wonderfully, Lord Gendry.” Daenerys said. “You’ve already secured new jobs for some of those who had none, so the fact that they’ll be able to feed their families is because of you. You’ve gained the trust of the people, which is very important. And I’m sure you’ll continue to do well in the future. Of course, there’s a lot that needs to be done yet, but I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Gendry smiled at her.

“Now, the reason why I asked you here is because we need to discuss what to do about the Lords that will be sworn to you.”

“All right.” Gendry replied, now looking fearful.

“Now, the situation, as you can imagine, is rather peculiar. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for me to declare you Lord of the Stormlands for you to actually become so. We’ll need the support of the other Houses. While I don’t really believe we’ll encounter much of a problem there, we still need for you to be presented to them and for them to swear loyalty to both you, as their new Lord, and me, as their new Queen. It is why I’ve already asked the Grand Maester to send ravens to the major noble houses so that they can come to King’s Landing to swear fealty.”

“Yes, your Grace. I understand.”

“However, we’ll need for you to prepare yourself in the meantime. It’ll take a while for them to get here so we have a little time.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, the most important thing is…do you know how to read and write?”

Gendry looked at his lap, a little embarrassed. “A little, but I’m very slow. Though I’m good at counting.”

“That’s wonderful. That means we won’t have to start from scratch. And don’t be embarrassed. One can always learn, no matter how late. I didn’t receive a formal education but I came out well if I do say so myself.”

Gendry laughed a little, looking reassured. “Yes, your Grace.”

“Now, you’ll receive lessons from the Grand Maester. I’ve already spoken to him. You will improve your reading and writing and you’ll study the history of House Baratheon, the Houses sworn to it and, in general, the History of Westeros, though that will be in less detail. You’ll need to learn everything about the Stormlands first of all, that is the most important thing. And, of course, you’ll receive the education that a lord usually receives in his youth. You won’t be able to learn everything immediately but, I’m sure, you’ll catch on fast.”

“I hope so, your Grace.” Gendry looked a little overwhelmed by all that she was saying. Daenerys couldn’t blame him.

“I know that it’s a lot to ask of you but I want you to know that I have complete confidence that you’ll succeed.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I promise, I’ll do my best.”

* * *

“Have you talked to her yet?” Ser Davos said, from walking beside him.

“Who?” Jon asked, feigning ignorance.

Davos sighed. “I believe you know of whom I speak.”

“No, I didn’t. She didn’t summon me and I didn’t ask to talk to her either.” Jon said, feeling a little sullen.

“Your Grace, I know that you’re still new at this but I’m sure you’re aware that a queen is very busy. She just started her reign and she doesn’t look like someone who would ask others to do what she could do herself. If you wish to get to know her, like you said, you need to be the one to make the first move.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon sighed. He knew that but the idea of coming face to face with Daenerys Targaryen again, it filled him with a lot of emotions that he didn’t know how to deal with. There was something about her that deeply unsettled him. No one had ever caused such a reaction in him before and Jon didn’t know how to deal with it.

Still, there was a lot of things they still needed to talk about. And he also would like to know how the mining for dragonglass was proceeding.

They turned a corner and Jon was confused to see Davos stopping in his tracks. Jon followed his line of vision to a young man dressed in finery who was speaking to the Grand Maester. He was obviously a noble though there was something familiar about him that Jon couldn’t place. The conversation didn’t last long and then, the young man turned around and saw them as well.

“Gendry?” Davos said with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Gendry smiled at him and came closer. “It’s Lord Gendry Baratheon, now, Ser Davos.” The man named Gendry said with a proud grin.

Davos grinned back. “Really, and how did this new development came about?”

Gendry’s smile widened and his eyes took on an adoring look. “Queen Daenerys, of course. She legitimized me and made Lord of Storm’s End and the Stormlands. She also found a place for me in her Small Council.”

Davos’ eyes widened. “Really? That’s very generous of her.” He sounded impressed.

“She’s wonderful.” Gendry said, “Strict, of course, and sometimes rather scary. But kind-hearted. The only royal I’ve ever met who actually cares about the people she rules. She made me Lord of Commoners, you know. I have the responsibility of looking out for the interests of the small folk. Have you ever heard of a queen or king who ever did that?” The way he spoke about her was like a deeply religious man spoke of a god he worshipped.

“Definitely not for the last 50 years, at least.” Davos said, then he seemed to remember that Jon was with him and he turned around. “Oh, forgive me, your Grace. This is Gendry Baratheon…formerly Gendry Waters. He’s Robert Baratheon’s natural son. Gendry, this is Jon Snow, the King in the North.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Grace.” Gendry bowed to him.

“Likewise.” Jon said but he was distracted.

Daenerys Targaryen had, not only, legitimized the bastard son of the man that was, in her eyes, the cause of her family’s ruin, she had also made him the Lord of the Stormlands and part of her council?

On one side, it could be that she really was the kind-hearted woman that Gendry was describing. On the other, maybe she was simply the cunning queen who saw the opportunity to use a naïve young man and decided to give him a bastard’s dream because she knew it would have bought her his loyalty. Or maybe it was a little of both. Jon didn’t really know what to think. The more he learned about Daenerys Targaryen and the more confused he became.

Still, that only convinced him even more that Davos was right. He really needed to talk to her, get to know her. He couldn’t keep avoiding her forever.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm not particurarly satisfied with this chapter. Hope you like it anyway! Next, Jon finds out the truth about himself. It will be from his POV.

She was nervous. Daenerys Targaryen was nervous and that was not an emotion she was used to feeling.

It was time. It was time for her to tell Jon the truth and she didn’t know how. No, that wasn’t exactly right. She knew how, she was just afraid of how he would take the news. No matter how complicated her feelings for Jon Snow were at the moment, she didn’t want to cause him pain. And she knew that this would hurt him, upset him, even make him hate her.

But none of it mattered. She needed to tell him the truth. He would come to know either way, one way or another. It would be best if it came from her, for both of them.

She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, of the way he and the world finding out the truth about him would affect her and her right to the Throne, her place in the world, of the betrayals and attempts on her life that could follow, not like she had been in her dreams. She was stronger now. And things were different. She was prepared. She would control this. She had to.

No, what mattered was Jon. What it meant for him and for them. In this world Jon didn’t know her, didn’t love her, hadn’t laid with her, he wouldn’t be disgusted by the relation they shared. They could build something new, together. They could become family, like she had always wanted.

Daenerys never had a family, except for Viserys. And he had been cruel, stupid and weak. Not a true dragon, and certainly not her brother in all the ways a brother should be.

But maybe, this time, she could have a family with Jon and through Jon.

She had to try. Not just for herself, but for him as well. Jon needed to accept the fact that he was half Targaryen. He couldn’t run from the truth.

Daenerys didn’t really understand the relationship between Jon and Ned Stark. She never had a father so it was difficult for her to comprehend. But she knew that Jon admired Ned Stark, that he looked up to him, that his entire life and his entire identity had been about making Ned Stark proud, living up to his legacy as an honourable man. And she knew that not knowing who his mother was, was something that had haunted him all his life.

This time she would talk to him, help him in the ways she could. She understood now that, part of the reason they had fallen apart was because they had stopped talking, confiding in each other.

This time things would be different.

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. Daenerys straightened in her seat, adjusted her dress over her legs and put her intertwined hands on her lap, trying to appear relaxed, assuming a casual but regal pose.

“Come in.” She called out and took a deep breath.

Jon Snow entered the room, face serious and broody as usual. The scars on his face were particularly prominent today, as was the line of his jaw, his teeth tightened inside his mouth in a clear sign of nervousness or irritation or both.

She wasn’t surprised he was reacting like this. They hadn’t left things in a civil manner exactly the last time they had spoken with each other.

Daenerys decided that it was time to rectify the situation. Yes, it was still hard, even only looking at him. But she couldn’t keep living in the past, especially a past that was really a future that never actually happened, not that it will happen either.

 _If I look back I’m lost_. She said to herself and then smiled at him invitingly.

“Your Grace.” Jon said and came closer to where she was sitting.

“King in the North. I’m relieved to see you. I thought you had forgotten about me altogether.” She said with a grin.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused by her attitude change. “You didn’t call for me either, your Grace.” He said with a slightly cold tone.

“True. But no matter, you’re here now. Come, sit.”

Jon did and looked around him. They were alone in the room. “No advisors today? No guards?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you alone. And I don’t think I need guards while I’m with you. Unless I’m mistaken and you plan to kill me?” Her smile became cutting, a reference to something he couldn’t possibly know.

“Even If I wanted to, I wouldn’t go very far if I did. And I’m not that stupid, as much as people think I’m a northern fool.”

Daenerys raised her right eyebrow at his words and Jon continued, figuring he hadn’t really given her an answer.

“I’m not your enemy, your Grace. I hope you won’t become mine either.” He looked at her with those intense dark grey eyes and for a moment Daenerys forgot herself. Those eyes had always had such an extraordinary effect on her.

“I have no intention of becoming your enemy, Jon Snow. I want us to be allies.” She said, snapping out of her daze with difficulty.

“Good.” Jon said and he really looked relieved. “I want the same thing.”

Daenerys smiled at him, fully and sincerely, but she regretted it immediately the moment she noticed him looking at her in that way, the way he used to in her dreams, the first few months in Dragonstone, when things had been still so new and uncertain between them, when the attraction between them was just an ember of what it would grow to be.

She stopped immediately and Jon’s gaze lowered to the floor, frown reappearing on his face. A few seconds of silence was enough for them both to let go of whatever that was and returning to talk of business.

“The mining of dragonglass? How is it going?” Jon asked her.

Daenerys was more than happy to oblige him. “Very well. There is an incredible amount available. Probably enough to arm every man, woman and child in Westeros. And, if you don’t have anything to object, I would like start sending North some of it now, with my some of my ships. They will make different trips back and forth. I think it would be best. After all, I’ll need all of my ships to bring my army North. And, in the meantime, the northerners can start preparing in Winterfell.”

Jon smiled at her and Daenerys’ breath caught in her chest. “I think it would be perfect, your Grace. I will send a letter to my sister at once.”

“Good. But don’t leave just yet. We still need to talk.”

“Yes, your Grace. I think we do.” Jon agreed. “How do you plan to proceed?”

“Well, it’s simple. First, you’ll make your case in front of the other Houses. I think Yara Greyjoy can be easily convinced, if only because Theon is eager to redeem himself in the eyes of your family.”

Jon’s eyes turned cold with fury at the mention of Theon. “Theon betrayed my brother Robb. He attacked my home. For a while I even thought he had killed Bran and Rickon, my brothers. He should be punished.”

“He was punished, very extensively, from what I heard, by Ramsey Bolton. But Ramsey Bolton is dead, you and your sister saw to that. And Theon is alive and back with his family, and your sister, she’s alive as well and that’s thanks to him, is it not?”

Jon sighed, grumbling almost. “It is.”

“I understand this is difficult. But Theon is my ally. He helped me, just as much as Yara. And I will not betray them by giving him to you so that you can dispense your…northern justice to him. That is not negotiable.”

Jon frowned but nodded. “I know. I didn’t expect you to. And I wouldn’t execute him anyway, because, like you said, he did save my sister.”

“Good.” Daenerys said, pleased they had come to an agreement, at least in that. “And I’m sure, if you’d give him a chance…he might surprise you. He’s a changed man. And he’s sorry for what he did. He wants to remedy that.”

Jon nodded but didn’t say anything in return.

Daenerys let the matter go. Instead, she returned to the topic they were discussing previously. “About the other Houses... Lord Tully might decide to help you, because of the connection to your family. Lord Gendry perhaps but his situation is still…in need to be defined. So, I don’t know. Lady Olenna…huh, that’s going to be a tough one. She’s very cunning and I don’t know if she will believe a word you’ll say without seeing the threat with her own eyes. Lord Tyrion would probably help you but who knows if the other Westerlands Houses will follow his orders. Some perhaps, others…Not everyone will forget the fact that Tyrion killed his father. Still, I could probably help…persuade them. A little intimidation goes a long way. And since the only other Lannister left is at the Wall, their allegiances will not be divided. The Dornish…huh, I haven’t met the new Princess yet. So, I don’t know what she would do. Hopefully, the fact that she’s the new ruler of Dorne because of my intervention, can help convince her of helping us.”

Jon had listened in silence but then he said something that made her freeze in her seat. “Maybe we need proof. You’re right. Most of these lords won’t believe what we’re facing unless we show it to them.”

Daenerys almost growled in her frustration. “I know what you’re thinking, Jon Snow. And no, this is out of the question. I’ll tell you what will happen. You will go, some of your and my men with you. You will find yourself trapped beyond the Wall and die. Or, you’ll ask for my help and I’ll come and something bad will happen. Like one or more of my dragons dying because we weren’t prepared. Do you know the disaster it would be, for the Army of the Dead to have a dragon of their own?” She was screaming at the end, the idea of losing Viserion again, or Rhaegar or both, or even Drogon this time. No, nothing will happen to her children, not this time.

Jon looked flabbergasted for a moment but then he gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t think about that. Yes, it’s a stupid plan.”

“Yes, it is. And I don’t go for stupid plans. In fact, I despise stupid plans.”

Jon grinned a little at her words. “Yes, I imagine you would. If there’s one thing I learnt about you your Grace is that you’re incredibly cunning. Don’t know yet if it’s a good thing or not.”

Daenerys raised her eyebrow, flirting without realizing it. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.”

Jon’s grin widened and his cheeks turned a little bit red. Daenerys cursed herself. What the hell was she doing? Damn it. She wasn’t supposed to flirt with him. She was supposed to tell him the truth.

But first, “One of my dragons will stay here and my Second Sons as well but the Dothraki and Unsullied will come North with me.”

Jon sobered and nodded his head.

“Also, can I make a suggestion, King in the North?”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“I think, first of all, we should evacuate the northern castles and villages, have everyone who can’t fight come south, elderly, children, women who can’t fight. Have them come to White Harbour and from there they will sail to Dragonstone, a little at a time, with the ships we’ll be using to bring the dragonglass North. The island may be small but it’s big enough to host the northern population. They won’t have to fear getting hungry while there. New provisions are already coming from Dragon’s Bay and the Free Cities, that were meant to feed the populace here in King’s Landing but I’m sure we’ll have more than enough to feed the people who will stay in Dragonstone as well.”

Jon Snow looked at her with a look that she couldn’t decipher. He seemed…awed? Delighted? Daenerys tried to suppress the pleasure such a look coming from him gave her. Then he returned to his usual broody self and said, “Your idea has merit, your Grace. But I don’t think the northerners will ever agree to abandoning their castles and their homes.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly irritated. “They don’t need to be okay with it. You’re their King. Just order them to leave their castles and come south.”

“It’s not that simple.” Jon said, looking frustrated.

“It is. Make it clear to them that it’s that or death. I personally don’t care about the lords, who will hole up in their castles, thinking they are safe. But the common people? They will be the one to suffer the most and I can’t have that. They may not be my people but I still care what happens to them or I wouldn’t be helping you at all. The people don’t deserve to suffer just because their lords are too proud and stubborn to accept help from a Targaryen queen.”

Jon’s look changed again. Now he was definitely admiring. “You’re right, your Grace. I know you are but, like you said, my bannermen are stubborn and proud.”

Daenerys almost rolled her eyes at that. “Very well. That we won’t give them the chance to say no.”

Now he looked at her warily. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll fly to every castle and keep in the North if we have to and we’ll convince the people to leave for White Harbor. A raven is not as convincing as a fire-breathing dragon after all.”

“Fly, your Grace?” Jon asked with slight panic in his voice. “You mean, I would have to fly on the back of your dragon with you?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, that is exactly what I mean. Unless…you’re scared?”

Jon huffed and didn’t answer. “My sister won’t be okay with it.” Jon said with a sigh.

“What your sister will or won’t be okay with is not my concern. You’re their King. If the people want to leave, she can’t stop them. Nor can any other lord.”

“Very well. I’ll start sending ravens. Let’s see what their reactions is first. Then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go with your idea.”

Daenerys nodded, satisfied. They were finally getting somewhere. And now…now it was finally time for Jon to know the truth. Would this ruin this ceasefire between them? Daenerys hoped not. They needed to trust each other, as much as it was possible, for this alliance to work.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, another chapter! Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I wasn't feeling well. Another thing, I don't know if I'll be able to update every day next week because I'll be really busy. Next saturday I definitely won't be able to update. Tomorrow yes, but the rest of the week...some days yes, but I really doubt that I will be able to update every day. Anyway, the week after that, it should return to an update every day.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this chapter! Jon finds out the truth!

Jon looked at Daenerys taking a deep breath. She seemed nervous, apprehensive even. Jon was confused. A moment ago, she was smiling, even laughing, her expression light and unguarded – Jon tried to ignore the way it had made him feel, seeing her smile so wide and openly. Daenerys was gorgeous, there was no denying it. But Jon couldn’t let whatever attraction he felt for her influence him. He wasn’t just a man speaking with a beautiful woman. He was the King in the North treating with the Queen of the Seven – Five? – Kingdoms. He had a duty to his people.

Still, Jon couldn’t help but ask, “Is there something wrong, your Grace?” He didn’t know if he could really trust her but what he was seeing of her, the way she cared about the people under her rule, he…well, he liked it.

Even if they hadn’t interacted much since the day he had come here, he had still observed her while in court, he had asked people about her, without seeming too forward. And what he had learned had pleased him, had assuaged some of his worries. He had learnt that Daenerys was a Queen that kept her word. If she told you that she would do something, she would. That meant that, if she swore that she would burn you alive with her dragons because of a perceived betrayal, she would do it. If she told you that she would stop the other regions of Westeros, and Essos, to trade with the North if the North decided to keep its independence, then she would. But it also meant that, if she had sworn she would help in the war against the dead, then she would.

Lady Olenna Tyrell, Queen Yara Greyjoy and Ellaria Sand could all attest to the fact that Queen Daenerys was true to her word.

Jon appreciated that. As a man who tried to live following his father’s example of honour and honesty, he valued a woman whose word could be trusted.

“I confess I didn’t ask you to come to King’s Landing only because I was interested in the North and the Vale.” Daenerys said, her words making him come back to the present.

“Oh?” Jon wondered if Davos had been right after all, if she really intended to propose a marriage alliance between the two of them. Jon, as much as he tried to deny it, would not be opposed to it. _The opposite, in fact_ …His mind whispered.

“Yes. I…I have something to tell you.” She looked so serious, those mesmerizing violet eyes looking at him with trepidation. “And I know that you don’t have a reason to trust me but I assure you that I don’t have any reason to lie when it comes to this. In fact, I could have simply stayed silent. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want our possible alliance to start off with a lie.”

“What do you mean?” Jon was even more confused now. What lie was she talking about?

Daenerys took another deep breath before pulling an old, leather-bound journal out of the pocket of her dress. “This is a High Septon’s diary. In it, there’s the proof that my brother Rhaegar did not kidnap and rape Lyanna Stark.”

“What?” That was not the direction Jon was expecting this conversation to take.

“They loved each other, Jon Snow. They ran away together and they…they were married. The spark of Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie.”

“How is it possible? Rhaegar Targaryen was married to Elia Martell, everybody knows this.” Jon was left pretty much speechless by this revelation but, at the same time, he couldn’t understand why Daenerys was telling him this. Sure, it could be that she was trying to clear her brother’s name. That would make sense but Jon could feel there was more to it. He just didn’t know what.

“He was. But he annulled the marriage and married Lyanna Stark in secret. In Dorne.”

“Can you show me this proof you’re speaking of?” Jon said, not sure what else to add.

Daenerys showed him the page in the diary that detailed the annulment of Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia Martell and the fact that he had officiated the marriage between the Crown Prince and his aunt Lyanna himself.

“All right.” Jon said. “I believe you. I can’t deny this proof. I just don’t understand why you’re telling me this. Is it because you want to show me that your brother wasn’t the villain he was painted as? All right, I’ll make sure to let the Northern lords know. It will certainly help them see you in a better light.”

Daenerys shook her head. She seemed sad. And a little exasperated as well. “This is not about me, Jon Snow. This is about you.”

“What?”

“Everyone knows the story so I’m sure you’re aware of this too. How Ned Stark reached the Tower of Joy to free his sister. How he found and fought my family’s Kingsguard, the best knights in all the realm: Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Arthur Dayne. How he found his sister in a pool of blood, taken by a fever. How he returned to Winterfell with her body and…a baby boy, his bastard son.”

Jon listened to Daenerys’ words and a terrible thought started to creep into his head. But no, it wasn’t…it wasn’t possible, was it? “No….” Jon said, getting up from the chair he was sitting on. He started pacing. “No, no, no, no…”

“Has nobody ever wondered why the best knights in all the realms had been sent in Dorne by my brother to…what…keep Lyanna prisoner? But no, they were married. They loved each other. So, they were there to protect the future Queen? Possible. But Rhaegar could have used those knights at the Trident. If they had been there, maybe history would have been different. I’m sure my brother knew that. He could have chosen someone else to protect Lyanna Stark. And instead, he chose them.”

Jon tried to ignore Daenerys’ words but what she was saying was making too much sense. Why had no one realized this before?

“But what if…what if they were there to protect her…and the child he was expecting? Rhaegar’s child and heir after the death of Aegon, Elia’s son. So, what if, when Ned Stark reached his sister’s side at the Tower of Joy, he found her in a pool of blood and taken by a fever because…because she had just given birth?”

“Stop.” Jon pleaded. He didn’t want to listen to this. “Please, stop.”

But Daenerys didn’t stop. “I’m sure Ned Stark was also aware of what would have happened to the child if Robert had found out about his existence. After all, when Tywin Lannister presented him the corpses of Aegon and Rhaenys, what he did do? He rejoiced in the ‘dragonspawns’ being dead. And there was no one Robert hated more than Rhaegar. Imagine what he would have done to Rhaegar’s son with the woman he loved, the woman he had started a war for. He would have killed that child with his own hands. And, Ned Stark, honourable Ned Stark, who had protested against the slaughter of Rhaegar and Elia’s children, who had wanted Tywin Lannister punished for his crimes…what did you think he did? He couldn’t allow his sister’s son to be killed by his best friend. So…to protect him…he brought the child with him North and passed him off as his bastard son.”

Jon kept shaking his head, in denial. No, no, no. He was Ned Stark’s son. Daenerys was lying. Daenerys was lying. “Stop! I don’t want to listen to this! Why are you telling me this?” He ended up screaming the last part. His face took on a menacing expression without him realizing. He was furious. “My father is Ned Stark. He wouldn’t have lied to me. He was the most honest and honourable man I’ve ever met and he wouldn’t have lied to me, to everyone. Why are you lying? Why would you do this?"

Daenerys got up from the chair, graceful and beautiful and delicate. “I’m not lying.” Her voice was even, soothing, like one would talk to a frightened animal who would lash out when feeling cornered. “I know this is difficult for you.”

“You know nothing!” Jon screamed again.

“No, you’re right. I don’t know what you’re feeling right now. I’m not pretending to. But I’m not doing this to hurt you but because you needed to know. You’re a Targaryen, Jon Snow. My nephew. My family. And…and my heir.”

“What?” Jon said again, completely taken aback.

“I can’t have children, Jon Snow. And you are the only other person in the world that shares my blood. It’s the obvious solution.”

Jon kept shaking his head. “No. I don’t have to listen to this. I don’t care about your fucking throne.”

“I can understand you don’t, not now. I’m not going to press the issue. I’m just trying to make you understand that I’m not lying to you. That I would have no reason to lie. Not about this.”

Jon knew that she was right. Why would she fabricate such a story? It didn’t make sense. Especially if it went against her interests. Jon knew that, as Rhaegar’s son, he would have a claim to the throne. Why would she reveal to him such a thing, creating a possible rival for the throne she had just conquered, if it wasn’t true?

All of what she had said made sense. He knew…deep down…he knew it was true. He just didn’t want to believe it.

A million emotions swirled in his head but the most potent one was anger. Anger at his father for never telling him the truth. Anger at Rhaegar and Lyanna for being reckless and causing a war. Angry at Daenerys for telling him this in the first place.

He would have preferred to keep believing himself the bastard son of Ned Stark, without ever finding out the truth. Even if that meant never knowing who his mother was.

All his life he had desired not being a bastard, dreaming that one day, he would become a legitimate Stark. That his father would make him a legitimate Stark. But Ned Stark couldn’t have done that because Jon had never been a bastard in the first place. He was never a Stark. And he was never illegitimate.

He was a Targaryen. And Daenerys Targaryen was his aunt, his father’s sister.

Suddenly, Jon felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I can’t…I can’t…I have to go.” He didn’t even wait for Daenerys to answer, he just left the room without a backward glance.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Hope you like it! Hope that the way Jon is struggling with the revelation of his parentage is clear in this chapter. I tried my best but I don't know if it's actually any good.

Five days had passed since he talked with Daenerys, since she told him the truth about his parents. Jon still didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. He would shift between anger and sadness and everything in between but he still couldn’t come to terms with it.

Everything he thought he knew about his life was a lie. How could he ever wrap his head around that?

Davos had tried to talk to him after his meeting with the Queen but Jon had been unable to tell him more than the few basics decisions they had made about the war against the dead. His unofficial Hand was confused by the fact that Jon was, once again, avoiding Daenerys and that the Queen seemed to be avoiding him just as much.

Jon knew it wasn’t true. He knew that Daenerys was simply giving him time. But he couldn’t explain to Davos why they hadn’t met in almost a week and why, when Davos had once again come up with the idea of marriage, Jon had reacted a little horrified.

Daenerys was his aunt, his blood. The idea of marrying her, of laying with her, _should_ _feel wrong_. It should disgust him. And _it did_ , but not because he was actually disgusted at the idea of bedding her but because…because _he wasn’t_.

What was wrong with him? Shouldn’t his attraction to Daenerys disappear now that he knew the truth? His mind and his body seemed to be at odds with each other and that didn’t help in clearing up his confusion.

Jon would find himself watching her, the way she smiled and laughed – the dimples that would appear in her cheeks, the way the sun would hit her silver hair, making them shine like moonbeams, her soft, pale skin, her violet eyes, her body whose curves not even the heavy fabrics she wore could entirely hide. And those images would haunt him at night. He would dream of touching that perfect skin, caressing her dimpled cheeks, kissing those pink, supple lips and then the rest of her. When she was in court, sitting on that blasted, horrible, chair, so rigid and composed, he would long to raise her skirts and bury his head between her thighs, savouring her sweet essence until she would lose her self-control and cry out his name. He would day-dream about the way it would feel, be buried inside her, hot and wet and tight and perfect.

And he was disgusted with it, disgusted by his thoughts. And terrified at the idea of Daenerys finding out about them. She considered him her family, she had said that. What would she feel if she knew that her nephew was lusting after her?

Jon wondered if it was the dragon blood in him, that was responsible for him desiring his own kin. Or if he was simply as depraved as Lady Catelyn had always said he was.

There were other thoughts that filled his head as well, that kept him up at night. He was torn about his father…about Ned Stark. On one hand, Jon understood why he had lied. He had done it to protect him. And he was thankful for that. But why hadn’t he said anything to him? Why had he allowed him to go to the Wall without saying a word? He was Warden of the North, he could have found some other place for Jon somewhere if he had wanted to. Was he trying to protect Jon or his best friend’s throne? And what about the way Catelyn had treated him? Ned had known that and he had never said a word.

How he wished Ned was still alive, so that he could talk to him. Ned Stark was the only one who could answer the questions Jon had and he was dead.

And what about his siblings? They weren’t really his siblings, were they? Sansa, and Arya and Bran, wherever they were. They were his cousins. Would they accept him if he told them the truth? Would they still consider him their brother, their family?

And what about Rhaegar and Lyanna? He knew nothing about his real parents. Only what he had heard and that was a lie. Lyanna hadn’t been a poor, innocent maiden, kidnapped and raped by the villainous Prince. They had run away together, uncaring of what that would cause. Uncaring that they were starting a war. Held captive by their own selfish desires and dooming thousands to die because of it. Rhaegar was married and with children of his own and Lyanna was betrothed to another. But neither of them had cared about their oaths and duties, only about their love for each other.

And he was the product of that. The very embodiment of a war that could have been avoided. He had the blood of thousands on his hands just because of who he was.

Jon got up from the bed, unable to sleep yet again. The humid air of the south wasn’t helping matters. Winter had come but the temperature in King’s Landing was as high as that of the North during summer. He felt like he was suffocating.

He opened the window to let fresh air inside the room and walked to the balcony. The night was calm, the sky clear of any clouds and bright with stars and the light of the moon. From up here, the Tower of the Hand where Daenerys had decided his quarters – they were almost as luxurious as the royal quarters – would be since Missandei, her own Hand, would sleep in the same wing of the castle as Daenerys, everything seemed small and insignificant. Jon wondered if Daenerys felt like that when riding one of her dragons. If her problems seemed to melt away when flying over cities and hills and planes, only the wind and the warmth of dragonscales to accompany her thoughts. It sounded peaceful.

Like he had summoned her from his thoughts, he heard a knock at his door. Jon knew it was the middle of the night, the hour of the Wolf in fact. Why would she be here? Knocking on his door? And yet, there she was, as soon as he opened the door, standing over the threshold, disheveled like he had never seen her, with hair unbound in beautiful silver curls, and with a sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination, her pink nipples clearly visible underneath the light fabric and tempting him like nothing else ever had.

 _Am I still dreaming?_ Jon wondered, still unable to process the sight in front of him.

“Forgive me.” Daenerys said, her expression a little frantic. “I know it’s very late and that you were probably sleeping.”

Jon shook his head to dispel his lewd thoughts and realized there was something wrong or she wouldn’t have show up here at this hour. “I wasn’t. But…your Grace…can I ask why are you here?”

“I’m sorry…I…” Jon was surprised to see that she was stuttering a little. “Are you going to let me in?” She asked then, regaining a little of her normal composure.

“Yes, of course.” Jon moved aside to let her pass.

“Thank you.” He watched her pacing for a few seconds, feeling confused.

“Are you feeling all right, you Grace?” He asked her, unable to see her like this without doing anything to help her.

Daenerys seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts she was having because she turned around to look at him. “Yes…I…just a nightmare.”

Jon understood perfectly. He had more than enough nightmares of his own to deal with. Still, that didn’t explain why was she here.

“I wanted to talk, Jon Snow.” Daenerys finally said, probably able to read his thoughts. “I know that what I said shocked you. And I know you have no reason to trust me or confide in me. You don’t know me. I may not be yours but you _are_ my family, the only family I have left. So, I want to help you come to terms with your identity. But to do that, we need to learn to trust each other. So…I would like to tell you a story, if you’d let me.”

Jon was completely floored by that. “A story?”

“Yes…my story. So that maybe, one day, you’ll feel comfortable enough with me to tell me yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since many people asked this, Dany is not going to tell Jon about her dream, she’s going to tell him her story, her past, so that he can come to know her better and hopefully so that he can open up about his past in return.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. I don't know if I'm completely satisfied with it but I did my best. Hope you like it!

Daenerys spent the following days since her conversation with Jon immersed in her usual routine in court. She would wake up at dawn, spar with Grey Worm, Daario and Qhono for three hours, then her handmaidens would help her get ready – though she and Missandei still braided each other’s hair -, she would break her fast and then she would spend the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon sitting on the Iron Throne, receiving supplicants. Then the evenings were occupied with Small Council meetings or private meetings with her advisors.

She tried to keep her mind occupied, away from Jon Snow and his struggles to come to terms with the revelation of his parentage. She wanted to give him time, time that she knew he didn’t have in her dreams. 

Just that day the routine was disrupted by the Lords of the Stormlands coming to King’s Landing. Like Daenerys had predicted, it didn’t take long for them to swear fealty to both their new Queen and their liege lord. Gendry had behaved spectacularly in front of the lords, even better than she was hoping, behaving with dignity and impressing the lords with his knowledge of the Stormlands and of House Baratheon. Gendry had showed them that he was proud of the name the Queen had bestowed on him but, at the same time, making sure they knew that he wasn’t forgetting his origins.

The Lords were appeased simply at the idea of having once again a Baratheon, legitimized bastard or not, as Lord of the Stormlands. It wasn’t just that though. They were also respectful of Daenerys herself for legitimising and giving a lordship to the son of the man who had rose in Rebellion against her family, finding such a peaceful and, at the same time, practical way to resolve the feud between House Baratheon and House Targaryen. The fact that the new Queen had also three dragons helped them in their decision. The Lords of the Stormlands didn’t really see any reason why they would enter into a conflict with her. It wasn’t like they owned their allegiance to anyone else. Robert, Stannis and Renly were all dead and none of them had left any legitimate heir. Gendry, in fact, was the only person in the world left who had Baratheon blood. Who better than him to become the new Lord of the Stormlands?

Everything was going well but Daenerys couldn’t help but feel apprehensive all the same. She felt like she was waiting, waiting for everything to just go wrong. No matter how much she tried not to think about it, what had happened in her dreams still tormented her.

 _Would this be the day?_ She kept asking herself every morning.

And revealing the truth to Jon didn’t help to quell her fears, in fact, it only made them worse. She knew it was necessary, that he needed to know. But that knowledge didn’t make things any easier.

It shouldn’t have surprised her then, when that night, she dreamt of it. Viserion’s neck being pierced by an ice spear and then disappearing under ice, Viserion as the Night King’s slave, Viserion as a carcass laid on the Winterfell’s courtyard, the flaming arakhs of the Dothraki going out one by one, Jorah dying protecting her, his body laid out on the funeral pyre, Rhaegal’s body hit by scorpion bolts and then falling underwater, Missandei’s head separated from her body, her last word: ‘Dracarys’, repeating over and over in her mind, the sound of bells ringing in her heads and then…then fire and screaming and the smell of burning flesh and men and women and children disappearing under a thick veil of flames. Jon’s words ‘you will always be my Queen’ whispering in her head, his kiss and then the pain in her chest, his crying eyes looking down at her the last thing she saw.

She woke up screaming and wet with cold sweat, her breath coming out in harsh gasps.

Daenerys didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. She just got up from the bed, ignoring the slight chill in the ambience, the fact that she was only wearing a flimsy, white nightgown and left the room.

The two Unsullied guard at her door didn’t ask any questions. They only followed her down the stairs and then through the long corridor and then still, in the palace’s godswood, or what passed for one in the south, and then inside again and up the stairs towards the top floor, where the sleeping quarters in the Tower of the Hand were located, the ones that housed Jon Snow.

She knocked on the door and waited less than she was expecting for the door to open. Daenerys’ breath was still erratic, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t miss the way Jon looked at her, completely baffled at her presence, but Daenerys didn’t care at the moment.

She had needed to see him, talk to him. They couldn’t avoid each other anymore. She couldn’t allow what she had seen in her dreams to come to pass. Part of the reason why the two of them had fallen apart was because they had stopped talking to each other.

She wouldn’t allow that. They would be open with each other from now on. Starting from herself.

Jon let her inside and Daenerys started pacing. She couldn’t seem to be able to calm down.

She went to sit on an armchair in front of the fire, explaining to Jon why she was there, in the middle of the night. She knew she wasn’t probably making any sense.

“You don’t need to tell me anything, your Grace.” Jon finally said. But she did. She had to.

“Daenerys.” She said to him. “You can call me Daenerys when we’re in private.”

Jon looked confused but a smile broke his solemn expression. “Daenerys then. You can call me Jon.”

Daenerys smiled at him, tentative. “I do need to tell you. I want to.”

“All right then.” Jon said, joining her in the other armchair and looking at her with attentive dark eyes. His face was half-covered in shadows and Daenerys was reminded of the dreams she had sometimes had of her young, comely lover.

She shook off the memory from her mind and started talking. “You’re probably already aware of this but I was born in Dragonstone, at the end of the Rebellion. My mother died giving birth to me. I don’t even remember her face, though some people who knew her told me that I look a lot like her. I know that she was kind but strong, dutiful and loving. A true Queen.” She looked at the fire crackling in the hearth, just embers and ashes and few dying flames. “I don’t remember this, of course, but I know that some guards still loyal to my family, Ser Willem Darry one of them, got me and my brother Viserys out of the castle and the island and on a ship headed to Essos.”

She looked at Jon then, but she couldn’t read the expression on his face. He said nothing and Daenerys didn’t expect him to. She kept talking. “I never had a home. Only the dream of one. For a time, when I was little, we stayed in Braavos, in a house with a red door and a lemon tree outside. I was the happiest I’ve ever remembered being. But then Robert’s assassins found us, Ser Willem died and the servants robbed us of practically everything we owned and my brother and I were left alone and without a roof over our heads.

“Sometimes we would get lucky and we would find some noble or merchant that would help us but most of the time we would live on the streets, begging for food and shelter. I still remember the pangs of hunger in my belly keeping me awake at night. We were always on the run, never safe, always looking over our shoulders, just waiting for Robert’s assassins to come and kill us. My brother had even had to sell my mother’s crown so that we would have something to live on. He withstood humiliation after humiliation, just so that we could keep surviving.

“And in all that time, the goal had always been the same. Finding a way to return home, to Westeros, to the throne that had been stolen from us.

“I didn’t know, at the time, of my father’s madness and cruelty, of Rhaegar’s actions that had started the Rebellion. I only knew what Viserys had told me. I only knew that I wanted to return home and that Viserys kept telling me that home was in Westeros. I thought we were the victims, driven out from our legitimate place by traitors. But the truth is never black and white.” Daenerys stopped for a second to take a breath, finding it hard to say everything she needed, struggling to put order to her thoughts. Still, she needed to keep going.

“Viserys had been kind once, telling me stories of our House, making me smile, taking care of me. But the more the years passed and the crueller and more unhinged he became. The smallest thing could set him off. ‘Don’t wake the dragon!’ he repeated often or ‘You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?’ but somehow, without meaning to, I would always wake it. I became afraid of him, of what he would do to me. Somehow, from protector, he became my tormentor. And, somehow, the more the time passed, and the less I loved him. He was still my brother and my King, but that love was being smothered by fear more and more.”

Daenerys felt chilled to her very core at her own words. Is this what Jon had felt at the end? Did his love for her turned into fear? Has she turned into not only her father but Viserys as well? Did she do to Jon what had Viserys done to her?

Daenerys felt suddenly unworthy of being in his presence. She had hated him for a while but she knew that hatred hadn’t been hate at all. She was hurt and betrayed but that wasn’t all. She didn’t want to face the truth. She still wasn’t ready to face the truth.

She kept going. “My brother became more and more obsessed with taking back the Seven Kingdoms, with the Iron Throne. He even asked the Golden Company for help, because we needed an army to return home, but they laughed in his face. Until we found shelter in the mansion of a rich merchant in Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis. He put the thought in my brother’s head to marry me off to Khal Drogo of the Dothraki. So, my brother sold me to the Dothraki in exchange for an army, uncaring of my wishes. I wasn’t his little sister anymore, only a tool that he would use to take back his throne. He would have let Drogo’s khalasar and their horses rape me if that’s what it would take for him to get the throne. I think the little love I still felt for him died that day. He wasn’t my brother anymore. I didn’t recognize what he had become.”

The more she talked and the more the similarity with what had happened with Jon in her dreams came to her mind. Daenerys couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Jon was looking at her with both compassion and anger – anger at her dead brother, she knew. But he didn’t understand, not really. Yes, those memories hurt, but what hurt more was the idea that she had become – or that she would have become – just like her abusive brother. Somehow, the idea, was even worse than her becoming her father.

“So, I married Khal Drogo. I was terrified of him and our beginnings weren’t exactly pleasant for me. He took me every day, whether I was willing or not, it didn’t matter to him. That was the way of the Dothraki. I wasn’t better than a bed slave even though the khalasar called me ‘khaleesi’. Until finally, thanks to one of my handmaidens – she had been a Lysene bed slave before Illyrio bought her for me – I learnt how to please my husband.” She noticed, a little amused, Jon reddening a little at her words. Northerners were so prudish. “Things went better after that. I learnt to love my husband, though I now realize that I had forced myself to love him, to survive. People learn to love their chains, after all. But I found a strength in myself while with the Dothraki that I didn’t know I had. I learnt to be a Khaleesi in truth. And the next time my brother hit me, I fought back, for the first time in my life. And that’s when Viserys started to lose control. And the more control over me he lost, and the more desperate he became. And then I found out I was pregnant.”

Daenerys took a deep breath then. The memories of that time still hurt her. Finding out about Rhaego and then losing him like she did. The idea that she would never have a child of her own blood. It was still an open wound.

Jon probably noticed her state of mind because he poured her a glass of wine. Daenerys thanked him.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Jon asked, those gentle eyes focused on her. How Daenerys loved and hated that look.

She still loved him. It was inevitable. But she was resigned to the fact that they weren’t meant to be. She would have to be content with the idea of the two of them building a familial relationship if nothing else. At this point, she just wanted him to be happy. She would have to see him married one day, to someone that wasn’t her. It would hurt, she knew. But the idea that he would have heirs, children that would grow up one day, bearing the name Targaryen, that would assure the future of their House, it would have to be enough.

“No, I have to. I need to do this.” Daenerys answered.

Jon Snow nodded and then prepared to listen to her once again.

Daenerys kept talking. She told him about the attempt on her life and that of her son by the wine merchant, how Jorah Mormont had saved her life, how then Viserys – after the ceremony in Vhaes Dothrak – had threatened to cut her son out of her womb if he didn’t get what was promised to him. How Khal Drogo gave him what he wanted, a golden crown.

“I felt nothing when he died.” Daenerys said, her mind back to that moment, when she had watched her brother being restrained by Dothraki and then Drogo pouring the molten gold on his head. ‘Dany, please!’. The way he had screamed. “I felt only disgust. _That will not be me_. I thought. _I will not die on my knees, begging and pleading._ He was weak. He was no true dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon. It only makes us stronger.”

Jon Snow looked at her with a strange expression then. She couldn’t decipher it. It looked like pride and respect and understanding.

Daenerys wasn’t prepared for a such a reaction. She thought he was going to be fearful of her or wary because of what she had told him. What kind of person doesn’t feel anything while watching her brother being killed in front of their eyes? _A monster_. Her mind whispered. But Daenerys ignored it. Maybe she was a monster. But she strived every day not to be. To be better. To not succumb to the darkness inside her. The madness will not consume her this time. She will not let it.

Every day was a struggle. It will always chase her but she will always keep running.

Daenerys kept going. Telling him of what had happened in Lhazar, of Khal Drogo sustaining a injury that became infected, of Mirri Maz Duur tricking her, of how she inadvertently paid with her son’s life to save Khal Drogo, how he was brought back to her as a mindless shell, how she had smothered him with a pillow to end his suffering, because he wasn’t him anymore, how she had tied Mirri Maz Duur to Drogo’s funeral pyre, how she had put the three dragon eggs Illyrio Mopatis had gifted her at her wedding in the funeral pyre and then how she had walked in it.

“The fires burnt all through the night. And at dawn, when only ashes were left, I was still alive and whole, my skin unblemished. And instead of eggs, what I was holding, was three baby dragons. _My children_. It was in that moment that I _knew_ , that I was made for more than what I had been. And that faith in myself, in my destiny, is what pushed me forward through everything else I went through then. In Qarth, when the Warlocks of the House of the Undying stole my dragons and tried to imprison me and them forever. When my own handmaiden betrayed me. When I freed Astapor and the Unsullied and then Yunkai and Meereen. Through every single person I’ve lost along the way. I reunited the Khalasars into one. They follow me and only me. They crossed the poisonous waters for me. And then I came to Westeros and I took back the Iron Throne that belonged to my family. A Targaryen rules the Seven Kingdoms once again,” then she smirked at Jon to lighten the mood, “well not quiet seven _yet_.”

Jon grinned back, accepting the joke for what it was.

Daenerys sobered and said, “I was _so_ sure. Of everything. But now…I don’t know if I am anymore. I don’t know if that was really my purpose. Maybe I was wrong. I thought I was destined for greatness. Now I just feel like I’m going through the motions.”

Jon frowned at that. “Why do you say that?”

“I like being Queen, don’t get me wrong. I like that I can make people’s lives better. But I wonder if this is really where I belong. If this is really my place.”

“I wish I could reassure you.” Jon said. “But the truth is…I grew up as a bastard. I had no purpose. I didn’t even have a family name. I joined the Night’s Watch because I thought I could do something of myself there. But it wasn’t like I thought it would be. And then my fat…Ned Stark was executed. And then my brother Robb died. And I had no idea where the rest of my family was. And then I di…” He stopped for a second and then continued, but Daenerys knew what he was going to say: ‘and then I died.’ “And then I was reunited with Sansa and we took back Winterfell and I was named King in the North. And _then_ I found out that everything I thought I knew about my life…about myself…was a lie. Maybe that’s just the way it is. Maybe we’re not supposed to know. Maybe we just have to live one day at a time, without really knowing anything.”

Daenerys shook her head, though not in denial. “How can I do that? What am I without it?”

Jon shrugged. “Daenerys. You’re just Daenerys.” Then he seemed to come to some sort of realization. “And I’m just _me_.” He said, eyes wide. “Snow or Targaryen. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the person that I am. It doesn’t change the person that _you_ are.”

Daenerys smiled a little. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t need to constantly seek some purpose to go on. Maybe she could just be Daenerys. But then…”What are we supposed to do then?”

Jon shrugged again. “Living. Just living.”


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! It's short, I know but it's a very important chapter nonetheless because it's kind of a stepping stone for Jon coming to terms with his identity. I hope you like it!

When he woke up that morning, Jon wondered if he had dreamt what had happened last night. Daenerys knocking on his door in the middle of the night, telling him her life story. But no, he didn’t have enough imagination to make up half of the things she had told him.

Jon had no idea that Daenerys’ life had been that full of hardships. Sure, he had heard things, he knew she had grown up in exile but he hadn’t really known what it meant. It was still difficult to imagine that the powerful and intimidating Dragon Queen was once a young child, timid and afraid, her only caretaker an abusive brother, with no home or security, on the run from assassins and sometimes not even food on her belly.

Jon’s life at Winterfell hadn’t been easy and carefree but at least he had a home, as much as he often felt like he didn’t belong, like he was an outsider. But he had Arya and Robb and even Lord Stark, that though he had often been distant, had still been a father to him, he had made sure Jon was protected and taken care of. Sure, Lady Catelyn had despised him and had never made things easy for him, always making sure he knew that he wasn’t wanted. Still, Jon had a family that loved him.

Who did Daenerys have, really? How much strength does one person have to have to survive all that she had survived?

At first, Jon hadn’t understood what Daenerys meant when she had said that ‘fire cannot kill a dragon’, that a true dragon becomes stronger for it. But now he thought he did. What Daenerys had been through, it didn’t break her, but the fire, as she had called it, the adversities she had overcome, they had made her into the person she was today.

That was why Daenerys had despised her brother in the end. Daenerys had called Viserys weak, not because he died in the end, but because he accomplished nothing. Jon knew that having the name Targaryen was a point of pride for Daenerys. That _all_ she had for a very long time was her name. There was power in that name, and all that came with that name, and Daenerys had built her legacy on it, like Aegon and his sister-wives had done before her. She had woken dragons out of stone because she was a Targaryen, the blood of old Valyria.

Sure, her being a Targaryen had also caused her to live in exile in the first place, but it was also what she had hold onto when she had nothing else.

That wasn’t to say that the people who followed her, followed her _because_ she was a Targaryen – Jon had spoken to Lady Missandei who had explained to him that the people from Essos followed her because they believed in her, that she was the Queen they had chosen, and not because she was the daughter of some King they never knew –, but Daenerys had found strength in her name and her identity and she had used it to become the Dragon Queen. Her faith in herself and what she was, had gotten her through everything she had to face.

And the moment Daenerys started to have real power, she used it to help others. Jon had realized then, that Daenerys accumulated power not for power’s sake but so that she could give that same power to others. Daenerys wanted to be Queen because, by being Queen, she had the power to improve people’s lives.

Daenerys had been powerless as a child and she wanted to prevent others from feeling the same way. That was why she had spent years in Essos, freeing the slaves. Because, in a way, she had been a slave herself.

Viserys had done none of it. Instead, he had used the little power he had, the power that came from being a Targaryen, and used it to abuse the people around him, his sister first of all. He had used it to trample others under his feet, just so that he could maintain control and hoard that same power and gain more and more for himself. Therefore, the moment he had started to lose control, he broke. Because Viserys’ power had been an illusion. His wasn’t based on loyalty and love, not like Daenerys’ was.

 _That_ was what had made him weak. Viserys’ blood, the same blood as Daenerys’, had given him power that most people didn’t have, and he had been unable to use it. Thus, the fire had killed him.

Jon realized with a start then, that this same blood, flowed through his veins as well. Just like Stark blood.

He felt suddenly proud of it, in a way he had never been able to feel before. After all, all his life, he had believed he was a bastard. And he had come to terms with it. He had forged his own path, _despite_ being a bastard.

Unlike Daenerys, he had no name to hold onto, except coveting the idea of being made a true Stark. Like Tyrion had told him so long ago now, he had made of being a bastard, his shield. But deep down, though he couldn’t hold onto the name, because he _wasn’t_ a Stark, he still clung to what _it meant_ to be one, to what it meant to be Ned Stark’s son. Ned Stark’s ideals and precepts had given him something to grasp and keep when he had nothing else. And, in that way, he and Daenerys weren’t so different.

For the first time since he came to King’s Landing, Jon felt like he actually understood _Daenerys Targaryen_ in a way that he knew, very few people did.

Jon realized that most people, when they looked at Daenerys, could only see the Dragon Queen, the woman who commanded armies and dragons and that had conquered nations. It was her mask in a way. She _needed_ to show strength at all times.

But she had made herself vulnerable with him and Jon wasn’t oblivious to the great honour that had been bestowed upon him when she did that. Jon felt humbled by it.

And Daenerys did that because she considered him her family. And Jon, all of a sudden, wanted to be worthy of that, of being part of Daenerys’ family.

Jon still didn’t know what it meant, being a Targaryen. But, for the first time since he found out the truth, he _wanted_ to find out. And he wanted it to be Daenerys to show it to him.


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update! Not much really happens in this chapter but it was a necessary one nonetheless. Just another step to make Queen Daenerys' vision come true. Next chapter, we'll see Jonerys spending time together again, and a meeting between Jon and Rhaegal that I'm sure you've been waiting for. Hope you like this anyway!

“Thank you for joining me Lord Tyrion, Lord Gendry.” Daenerys said, motioning them to the two chairs in front of the desk she was sitting at.

The two lords sat and waited for her to speak.

“How is the reconstruction of the gate going, Lord Tyrion?”

Tyrion sat straighter in his chair and said, “It’s almost completed, your Grace. Soon we’ll be able to begin the work of rebuilding the Sept of Baelor.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “That is why I called you here. I changed my mind. While rebuilding the Sept of Baelor is certainly important, right now I would ask you to concentrate on another enterprise.”

“What is that, your Grace?”

“Flea Bottom. Lord Gendry here tells me that the living situation in that area of the city is abominable. I would like to see it for myself but I trust Lord Gendry’s words. After all, he did live there most of his life.”

“Yes, your Grace.” Lord Gendry said. “The conditions are unhealthy, the people are malnourished and often wearing what constitutes more rags than actual clothes, the buildings in need of serious repair, the streets grimy and smelly.”

Daenerys nodded, face grave. She had seen her fair share of misery in Essos, in the cities she had come to save. And just as she had improved their situations in Dragon’s Bay, she will do so in King’s Landing.

“Tomorrow I plan to visit the orphanages in King’s Landing, especially the ones in Flea Bottom. I will bring food, clothes and even toys for the children. I will walk the streets of Flea Bottom and ascertain for myself how grave the situation is. After that, we’ll decide what to do.”

“Your Grace, I really must protest. It’s not safe for you to wander the streets, especially the ones in Flea Bottom. You’re the Queen.” Tyrion protested. Daenerys forced herself not to roll her eyes at him.

“I’m aware I’m the Queen, thank you Tyrion.” She saw Lord Gendry hid a smile behind a hand, faking a cough. “And it’s _because_ I’m the Queen that I’ll walk among the people, the people I’m ruling. I did it in Essos and I plan on doing it here as well. I will not be a monarch that hides away in her castle while the people suffer below her.”

Tyrion sighed. “Very well, your Grace. I know enough about you to know when you can’t be persuaded to change your mind.”

Daenerys smiled her dangerous smile at him. “I’m glad to see you’re learning, Lord Tyrion. That is very good.” Tyrion almost grinned at her, not really intimidated, not that Daenerys really wanted him to be.

“As I was saying, we’ll decide on what to do about Flea Bottom but, I do have some ideas. If it’s as bad as Lord Gendry described, making a few repairs on the buildings won’t be enough. It’s very possible that we’ll need to start from scratch.”

“You intend to rebuild the entire Flea Bottom area?” Tyrion asked with wide eyes.

“If it’s necessary, yes. We’ll momentarily move the people in the area Cersei destroyed with Wildfire, after making sure it has been thoroughly cleaned, of course. That is why we need to postpone the rebuilding of the Sept. We’ll start by building wider streets, we’ll make sure the area is clean, and we’ll build houses fit for families to live comfortably. Also, I plan on extending the water and sewer system my ancestor Jaehaerys the Conciliator built and build public bathhouses, washhouses and latrines connected to the sewer system. The queen’s fountains’ water will be used only for drinking and cooking. No more washing clothes, or themselves, in the middle of the streets. No more wastes thrown out the window and into the streets. One of the biggest problems of this city is the smell. And, of course, diseases spread where personal hygiene is lacking. We’ll make sure to solve these problems which are as important as making sure people have food, clothes and houses to live in.”

Lord Gendry looked at her with open admiration but Tyrion seemed uncertain. Daenerys understood immediately why.

“While what you plan on doing is admirable, your Grace, the costs will be very high.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. But it’s a necessary expense. We’ll empty the Great Pyramid’s vaults in Meereen if we have to but I’ll see it done. And as quickly as possible as well. I want it done in one year at the most.”

“But it’s not nearly enough time, your Grace.” Tyrion protested again.

“I said, see it done. Spare no expenses, employ however many men you need but I will see these projects become reality in one year’s time. Or I’ll find myself a new Master of Coin, do you understand?”

Tyrion sighed but bowed his head at her. “Yes, your Grace.”

“Good. Now, two other important projects I want to focus my attention on are the creation of learning houses and healing houses. I asked you not long to find buildings or locales that would function as such. Did you have any luck?”

“Yes, your Grace.” Tyrion said before handing her the list he had prepared. “Most of these buildings are private ones. I already spoke with the owners and they will be willing to loan us the use of them…for a price, of course.”

“Of course.” Daenerys said, reading the list. Tyrion had been thorough. The list had the names of the owners, how many people they could contain and the area of the city they had been built in.

“Very good, Tyrion. I’m very satisfied with your work.”

Tyrion smiled widely at her praise. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“Now, all that’s left to decide is how much we’ll be paying the healers and scholars for their work. And, of course, convince the people to actually make use of these services. I imagine they will be rather distrustful of them at first, as for all new and unknown things, but I hope, Lord Gendry, you will help smooth things along?”

“Of course, your Grace.” Gendry replied, a look of determination on his face. “The people are still wary of…well, everything because of all the rulers’ decisions they had to suffer through in the last decades. But I heard the way they speak about you in the streets. I can safely say that, though they may not love you yet, they are very appreciative of what you’ve done for them so far and they are starting to trust you. Also, I believe your idea of walking through the streets, letting the people see you, will help a great deal in improving their opinion of you.”

Daenerys smiled at him. Gendry had a way about him, always so honest and just…good, that was very refreshing. “That is very good to hear. Thank you, Lord Gendry, for all the work you’ve done so far. I imagine it must have been a difficult transition, going from blacksmith to Lord with so many responsibilities.”

Gendry smiled back at her, a little adoring. “It was, your Grace, I can’t deny it. But I’m very happy with it. I…I feel good, doing it. It makes me feel useful. Like I have a purpose.”

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s the same way I feel as Queen. Though I was born a princess, my life hasn’t been one of wealth and privileges. All I have, I had to gain it for myself. And it’s because of that that I know the struggles of the poor and downtrodden. Because I was one of them myself not so long. And that’s precisely because of that that I’m doing everything in my power to improve their circumstances. After all, _why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?_ ”

Gendry nodded in agreement. After a few more discussions on the specifics of things, the meeting came at an end.

Daenerys sighed as soon as Tyrion and Gendry had left the room, feeling tired to the bone and almost sprawled herself in the chair she was sitting on.

There was something she needed to do that day. But after the conversation she had with Jon the night before, she was a little afraid of facing him. Which was, of course, ridiculous. What did she have to fear, after all? But everything with Jon was still so new and uncertain. She was afraid she had ruined everything by coming to him the night before. The nightmare had rattled her and she hadn’t even thought about what she was doing before showing up at his door. Now she wondered if she had made a mistake.

But no matter, what was done, was done. Now what she most wanted was to spend time with her children and have Jon meet Rhaegal. Her child needed a rider, so that he will be better protected when facing the army of the dead. Nothing will really assure their safety, of course, but it will certainly help. A dragon without a rider was vulnerable. That was why she was leaving Viserion here. She will leave nothing to chance this time.


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. To be honest, while I'm on vacation right now, it seems that I have even less time than when I was at Uni and I had exams. Still, I'm like 80% sure that I will be able to post another chapter tomorrow as well. However, I'm not sure I'll able to keep up with the daily updates like before. Definitely once a week at the very least, probably two.  
> Hope you like this chapter from Jon's POV. Not the date with the dragons yet, you'll have to wait for the next chapter for that.

He had received a summon that evening to join Daenerys in her private study. The note the servant handed him didn’t say much and Jon was curious if the meeting was going to be about the preparations for the war or about more private matters. Jon couldn’t deny that he was hoping for the latter, though he knew his thoughts should have been more focused on the war against the dead.

Not only he had numerous questions for Daenerys, about her life in what was now Dragons’ Bay, and her time in Qaarth and how exactly did she acquire a Dothraki horde of more than 80’000 men and the Unsullied as well. But, more than that, he simply wanted to talk to her, spending time with her.

Jon wanted to get to know _Daenerys_ and not the Dragon Queen. What she liked and disliked, what she liked to do when she wasn’t busy being queen, what it would take to make her smile and laugh.

He almost groaned at his own thoughts, feeling more like a green boy with his first crush than the king he actually was. Not that he really felt like a King. Even if he knew the truth about himself now, it was still difficult to shed away the years he had spent feeling ashamed at being Ned Stark’s bastard son, the times he had to pretend to be less than Robb so not to anger Lady Stark, the instincts he had developed to just disappear into the background, trying not to attract attention to himself.

And yet, it was Daenerys herself, the person that she was – ruthless but just, kind but firm and so charismatic to inspire people’s devotion to an almost impossible degree (Jon saw how the people, both lords and commoners, looked at her, in both fear and awe. She was revered by her Essosi people like she was a Goddess and even the people of Westeros were starting to show the same love and loyalty) – the way she ruled, with an iron fist and a gentle smile, how she had risen from nothing to become the most powerful woman, nay, the most powerful person in the world, that made him want to be better, to prove to himself and to her that he was in fact, a King, and worthy of being one as well.

Jon was surprised by the profound impact meeting and starting to get to know Daenerys already had on him. And yet, he knew he shouldn’t be. Not when Daenerys Targaryen had already influenced so many people, changed so many lives. Why would he be any different?

He realized now that he had been depending too much on Sansa and her opinions, worrying too much about displeasing her, because he had felt unworthy of being the King in the North, because he had thought, mostly unconsciously – it had been drilled into him to feel that way after all –, that he shouldn’t be the one ruling the North, being just a bastard while she was Ned Stark’s legitimate daughter.

But learning the truth about his real parents had opened his eyes on a lot of things. First of all, that, while it was true that he wasn’t Ned Stark’s son and that he didn’t carry the name Stark, he still carried Stark’s blood, just like Ned had tried to tell him when Jon had left for the Wall. Lyanna Stark had been his mother and, by sake of that, he had just as much right as Sansa to rule the North.

That had also made him realize that, as much as it didn’t like to think about it, Jon’s openness to Sansa’s opinions and wishes, had given Sansa leave to question his decisions openly, no matter how many times he had told her that doing so undermined him in front of the other lords, and that had, in turn, given the other lords the impression that they could do the same.

He knew that it was because Sansa wanted to feel in control, and after all that she had been through, Jon couldn’t blame her. And it was also because Sansa was wary of basically everyone nowadays which was, once again, understandable. Still, Jon wasn’t just a brother and Sansa wasn’t just his sister, they were also King in the North and Lady of Winterfell. That meant that he was, the moment the Lords had made him so, above Sansa and therefore, he should start to act like it and not refer to her every time he would have to make a decision.

He had been second-guessing himself, that was the truth of it. But no more. The North needed a strong leader to survive the Long Night and to negotiate with Daenerys Targaryen on their behalf. He needed to do what was necessary, not only to survive the war against the dead, but to think about the aftermath as well. Even if, what was necessary, was something that his people wouldn’t like. But they had chosen him as their leader and that meant that they thought he would represent their best interests, even if those interests didn’t correspond with their wishes.

Jon decided that he wouldn’t tolerate such a behaviour from Sansa – or the northern lords – anymore. Especially not once Daenerys would come North with him. What impression would he give to her if he let other people, even if those people were his sister and his bannermen, walk all over him?

He couldn’t stand the idea of Daenerys thinking he was a pushover, or worse, a weak leader. Daenerys despised weakness, and for good reasons. The idea that he could lose whatever respect Daenerys felt for him was unbearable.

Jon didn’t stop to think why such a thing would bother him so much, mostly because he was afraid to delve too deeply into feelings that were already complicated enough and that had sprouted and then grew stronger and more intense in such an alarmingly short amount of time. Repeating to himself that Daenerys was his aunt didn’t seem to help in lessening Jon’s attraction and admiration towards her.

The best thing to do, at the moment, was to just ignore it. There was no time for such things anyway and though Daenerys _was_ a Targaryen, he wasn’t sure she shared the Targaryens’ viewpoint regarding relationships between blood relatives. As far as he knew, Daenerys could be disgusted with the idea of the two of them together just as much as Jon thought he _should_ be. And it wasn’t like Daenerys had shown him any particular preference on her part that made him think she viewed him in that way.

Jon shook his head and kept walking, once again repeating to himself, _there’s not time for that_.

Once he reached the door to Daenerys’ study, he knocked and waited for an answer. Her muffled ‘come in’ reached his ears and, with that, the indistinct voice of a man. Jon frowned and opened the door.

Inside, he found Daenerys in the company of a man Jon hadn’t yet met. He knew the man wasn’t Grey Worm, the captain of the Unsullied, or Qhono, the leader of the Dothraki. Still, he was definitely a warrior. Young, well-built and, Jon admitted grudgingly, handsome. His frown deepened, especially at the way the man was standing a little too close to Daenerys for his comfort.

He felt a pang of…was it jealousy? At the sight. What an absurd thing to feel. What did he have to be jealous of?

He didn’t understand his instinctive reaction at this but there was something…intimate, in this little picture that he didn’t like.

Still, he smiled at Daenerys and said, “You wished to see me, your Grace?”

Daenerys smiled at him, a smile that Jon liked to think was reserved only for him, and replied, “Yes, thank you, King Jon.” Then, once Jon had reached Daenerys’ other side, Daenerys turned to the mysterious man, “Daario, this is the man I told you about, Jon Snow, the King in the North. Jon, this is Daario Naharis, the captain of my Second Sons.”

Jon inclined his head the barest minimum in greeting to this Daario, a glare appearing unconsciously on his face, but the man didn’t return the gesture. Instead, with the most arrogant expression Jon had ever seen anyone sporting, Daario looked at him from head to head and said to Daenerys, but still looking at him, “I thought he would be taller.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes at him though she had a little smile on her face. “You can’t talk to him like that, Daario. He’s a King.”

Jon stood a little taller at Daenerys’ acknowledgment of his title but didn’t stop glaring at Daario.

“He’s not _my_ King.” Daario replied, maintaining Jon’s gaze but still talking to Daenerys.

Daenerys turned to look at Jon then. “Forgive him, Jon. Daario has not yet learned proper manners. Or better, he doesn’t seem to care to.” There was a teasing quality to her voice that irritated Jon, though he couldn’t say why. Daenerys seemed almost…affectionate, when talking about Daario. What was the relationship between these two?

 _It’s none of my business._ Jon tried to tell himself. But the pang in his chest stubbornly remained.

“Jon is already aware of this,” Daenerys continued, her words directed to Daario now “but you and the Second Sons will remain here to protect the city while I stay North.”

Daario’s reaction was immediate. “Fuck the city, and fuck the people!” He shouted and even Jon was surprised by his vehemence, though not by his manners. He was a sellsword after all.

Jon felt immediate regret at the spiteful tone his thoughts had assumed when it concerned Daario.

“My place is at your side.” Daario continued. “I swore to you my sword and I would lay down my life for you if necessary. Please, allow me to protect you. If the enemy you’re going to face is as bad as you described, I will not leave you to face it alone.”

“I won’t be alone, Daario. I will have my dragons and my Dothraki and Unsullied.” Daenerys replied, voice even, seemingly unmoved by Daario’s impassioned words.

“None of them are your sworn swords and when, or even if, Jorah the Andal returns, he’s too old to be of much use to you.”

“Ser Jorah will remain here, in the capital. He won’t be traveling North with me.”

“All the more reason for me to be by your side.” Daario said, his hand going to caress Daenerys’ face in a way that was too familiar for a Queen and the captain of her soldiers to behave.

Jon followed the argument with the uncomfortable knowledge that they seemed to have forgotten that he was even in the same room with them.

“What about the Second Sons? Who will lead them with you away?” Daenerys said, leaning her face to allow Daario’s caress. Daario’s look at Daenerys was impossible to miss. His love for her as obvious as the sun shining in the sky. Daenerys’ feelings for the sellsword were more difficult to discern. She looked at him with affection. She obviously cared for the man, but in what way?

“I will personally choose the person who will be captain in my absence. My men are loyal to you, just like I am.” Daario swore to her.

“They’re loyal to the gold they receive from me, you mean.” Daenerys said, putting some distance between them.

“No, my Queen. If they didn’t want to come here, in Westeros, they wouldn’t have. Yes, the gold is an incentive but they could have remained in Essos and find employment elsewhere. There’s always need for sellswords after all.”

“Well, then I’m grateful for their loyalty.” Daenerys said before sighing. “And if you really want to come North with me…very well, I will allow it. But remember what I told you in Meereen, Daario.”

Daario nodded, though he looked a little sullen to Jon’s eyes. “Yes, my Queen.” He bowed to her then and left. Jon wondered what it was that Daenerys had told Daario to make him lose his air of arrogance so quickly.

Daenerys turned to Jon then, once Daario had left the room. “Forgive me, Jon, for this…spectacle. I had no idea Daario would make such a scene.”

“He’s loyal to you.” Jon merely said with a shrug that showed a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. “He loves you.” He added then, because he just couldn’t help himself.

Daenerys sighed, looking tired all of a sudden. “He loves the Dragon Queen, not me. If I had no dragons, no armies…” Daenerys shrugged, “he wouldn’t care for me at all.” Then she seemed to snap out of whatever melancholy had taken root in her eyes and she said, “but enough about Daario. I didn’t call you here to talk about him.”

Jon was more than happy to stop talking about Daario Naharis and focus on Daenerys instead. He smiled at her. “Then what did you call me here for?”

Daenerys smiled mischievously at him and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, that smile. “How would you like to meet my dragons?”


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. Jon won't meet the dragons in this chapter but in the next one. There was some stuff Jon and Dany needed to talk about first. Next chapter they will keep talking about things. They have still so much to talk about. Jon will ride Rhaegal next chapter, I can promise you that. And they will talk about Daario, and Jon will start to reveal some stuff about himself. Anyway, hope you like this one.

Jon walked at the side of the Queen, some of her Unsullied soldiers following behind them, while they traversed the streets of Flea Bottom headed towards the Dragon Pit. Every once in a while, she would stop to talk to the people, often children, a dazzling smile always present on her face. A kind word, a gentle caress, while distributing the gifts she had the Unsullied bring: blankets, clothes, toys for the children, more food, casks of wine. Jon merely looked and sometimes waved at them when the people called out his name as well. But most of their attention was on their Queen, the adoration on their faces plain to see and not a hint of fear. The people were all smiling, they looked happy, carefree, even as poor and dirty as they looked.

Daenerys turned to look at him, her purple eyes shining with happiness, her cheeks rosy for the exertion and the warm weather, her braided hair like a crown on her head, shining like molten silver under the afternoon sun and dressed in a red and black outfit that accentuated all her curves. She was a vision and Jon struggled not to stare at her like a lovestruck fool. Instead, he smiled back at her, happy that she was clearly happy.

“Tomorrow, I plan on coming back here in Flea Bottom and visit the orphanages. And also survey in more detail the state of this district, though I saw enough already to know that Gendry was right, their living conditions are appalling.” Daenerys explained to him while they kept walking. “Would you and Ser Davos like to accompany me? If I’m not much mistaken Ser Davos is from Flea Bottom as well, is he not? His input on the matter would be invaluable to me.”

“I would be honoured to, your Grace. And I’m sure so would Ser Davos.”

Daenerys smiled at his answer. “Perfect. And, of course, if you have suggestions as well, don’t hesitate to tell me. You have a unique perspective on things that I’m sure would be helpful to me.”

“I’m not sure how useful my advice would be in this matter. I grew up in a castle after all.” Jon laughed uncomfortably.

Daenerys frowned at him, displeased with his answer. “You grew up as the natural son of a lord, that’s not the same as growing up as a noble, is it? Unless you’re saying that you were treated the same as your siblings.”

“I had it better than most.” _Better than you._ His mind whispered.

Daenerys actually rolled her eyes at his answer. “You really need to stop putting yourself down and downplay your own sufferings. And with that I’m not saying that you should wallow in self-pity, bemoaning how bad you had it. But doing the opposite and think that everyone had it worse than you, that’s not okay either. You suffered, Jon Snow, that’s okay to admit it. And what you’ve been through made you the person that you are today, just like what I’ve been through made me who I am. Or are you saying that you would be the same person if you had actually grown up as you _really_ are?”

Jon understood immediately what she was saying. And no, he wouldn’t probably be the same person if he had grown up as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Like she wouldn’t be the same if she had grown up as a Princess. Neither of them was born in luxury, they had grown up as outsiders, having nothing to their name, entitled to nothing, and yet, they had both risen to power. In different ways and with different goals in mind, certainly, but, in a way, they had both regained the power that had been stolen from them at birth.

It was still hard to understand, that he was actually born a prince, a Targaryen prince at that. That in another life, if Rhaegar had won, he would have grown up here, in this city, that he and Daenerys would probably have been childhood companions, they would have been family, like his Stark siblings were his family. And maybe, Rhaegar would have even betrothed them to each other. Wasn’t that the Targaryen way after all?

“Do you ever think about it?” Jon couldn’t help but ask while they finally entered the Dragon Pit. They were alone now, the Unsullied remaining outside and guarding the entrances. The place wasn’t much better than a ruin, though it was still majestic in its own way. “What our lives would have been like if Rhaegar had won at the Trident?”

Daenerys shrugged. “Sometimes. Though I don’t like to linger on the past, thinking of things that will never be. That way leads to madness. _If I look back I’m lost._ It’s a sentence I often repeat to myself, because I can’t afford the luxury of regretting my decisions once I make them or second-guess myself or dreaming of a past that doesn’t exist.”

Jon nodded, seeing the wisdom in such a thing. And yet… “Do you think we would have been married by now? If Rhaegar had won and we had grown up together?”

Daenerys widened her eyes at that, looking completely taken aback by the question. “What?”

Jon shrugged, trying desperately to appear nonchalant and yet, he could feel his neck getting warm. Was he blushing? He hoped it wasn’t visible on his skin. “Well, wasn’t it the way of our family? To marry our own? And we would have been the same age, give or take a year. It would have made sense, right?”

Daenerys appeared embarrassed, the first time he had ever seen her as such. Sure, he had seen her being vulnerable, sad, but never embarrassed, uncomfortable. “Huh…maybe. Or maybe I would have married your brother Aegon and you, your sister Rhaenys.” At that, Jon couldn’t help but grimace. He knew that Targaryens had married among siblings for centuries if not millennia, when they were still in Valyria, but he couldn’t imagine marrying one of his sisters, though he had never met Rhaenys.

Daenerys regained her composure soon though and continued, “Or Rhaegar could have decided to break tradition and marrying us off to someone outside the family, to create alliances, which would have been the smartest thing to do after the Rebellion, to consolidate his power and the power of our House.”

“Right. Of course.” Jon said, feeling disappointed and not knowing why. Or maybe he knew why but he didn’t want to admit it. Time to change the subject. “So, your dragons…” Jon said with a smile, looking around himself. “Where are they?”

Daenerys shrugged. “They’re hunting right now. In the Kingswood but they will join us soon. They often do that. Or they go to Dragonstone. They like it there. Then, at night, they return here to sleep. I guess this place is comforting for them in a way. And they know I will never chain them down.”

Jon nodded but he was a little confused. “How do you know where they go when they’re not here?”

Daenerys smirked at him. “Tell me Jon,” she said, coming closer to him, “don’t you have a direwolf?”

“Huh, yes. I do. His name is Ghost.” Jon replied, still confused.

“And don’t you know right now, where he is, what he’s doing. Can’t you feel it?” Her eyes were so intense now, studying him.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Jon said, starting to understand now.

“I imagine my bond with the dragons is a little like your bond with Ghost. They’re my children, I told you that. But nobody understands what it _really_ means. I held them since the moment they were born. I fed them from my breasts, I taught them to cook their food, I protected them when they were too small to protect themselves. I punished them when they misbehaved and hurt someone. I’m a mother to them and they love me like one. When people ask me how do I control them, I tell them that I don’t because it’s the truth. _A dragon is not a slave._ They can’t be controlled. But they listen to me because they love me. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She was standing so close to him now, her eyes boring into his. Jon nodded, completely mesmerized by her and what she was saying. She was like no one he had ever met, extraordinary in a way he had never thought possible for someone to be. No wonder she had so many people loyal to her. How could they not be? “I do.” He finally said, finding his voice again.

“Then you understand what would I feel if something will ever happen to them. I lost a child already, I _won’t_ lose another!”

Jon gulped the sudden lump in his throat. He understood, for the first time, what he was asking of her by joining the fight against the army of the dead. And yet, what other choice did he have? They couldn’t win without her. “Daenerys…” He tried hesitantly. “If there was another way, any other way, I wouldn’t ask this of you. I wouldn’t ask you to risk your children. But we can’t win without you or your dragons. And there’s no guarantee that they will survive this. That _we_ will survive this.”

Daenerys sighed, looking a little defeated. “I know. But that’s not why I asked you here. You have Targaryen blood, just like me. That means, that like me, you have the potential to become a dragonrider.”

“What?” That was not the direction he was expecting their conversation to go.

“You heard me.” Daenerys answered, now looking fierce like usual. “I ride Drogon. But I think you could ride Rhaegal, the dragon I named after my brother… _your father_.”

“I…I don’t…I wasn’t expecting this. Are you sure? Are you sure I would be able to ride a dragon? And would you really entrust one of your children to me?”

“ _Yes_. A dragon is vulnerable without a rider. It’s why I’ll be leaving Viserion here. But you and I will ride Drogon and Rhaegal into battle against the Night King and the army of the dead. You’re right, we can’t win without my dragons. But if I have to put them in danger I, at least, want to make sure I’ll do everything I can to protect them. That’s why I will let you ride Rhaegal, one of my children. Because you’re the only one who can. And because…because I trust you, Jon Snow. You’re a good man, always ready to do the right thing. And I know that you will do anything in your power to make sure nothing happens to Rhaegal.”

Jon couldn’t express how…touched…he was by Daenerys’ words. The trust and belief she was showing him was something that nobody had ever shown him before. Hell, not even Sansa, his own sister, trusted him this much. In fact, he wasn’t even sure she trusted him or believed in him at all. “I…thank you, Daenerys. I promise, I’ll protect your child as best as I can. Nothing will happen to him, not if I have anything to say about it.”

Daenerys smiled at his answer, a smile so filled with joy and gratitude that he felt warmed all over. Jon swore to himself that he will do everything in his power to have Daenerys keep smiling like this for as long as he would live. She wasn’t made for sadness. She was filled with so much warmth and kindness and strength and _goodness_. She had been through so much already. He will not allow anyone or anything to hurt her more. That was a vow he made silently to himself. And like every other vow he had ever made, he intended to stay true to it, no matter what.


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another new chapter! I wanted to keep writing at first, but I felt like this was a good place to stop. Next chapter will have the rest of the conversation they started in this chapter, Jon revealing some things about himself, Dany telling him about Daario among other things. I hope you like this chapter anyway!
> 
> Also, it seems the prompt: family for today for the Jonerys appreciation week fits with this chapter so that’s my contribution.

She heard their screeches before she saw them. She saw Jon looked up at the sky as well and smiled. Soon, three shapes growing larger by the second, flew closer and closer until her three children were landing around them. Daenerys laughed with joy and shared another smile with Jon.

Jon looked on in awe at her dragons, the first time he could see them so close. His dark eyes were blown wide, and his lips were slightly parted.

“Ready?” She asked him and Jon nodded, though he looked a little hesitant. “Don’t be afraid. They won’t harm you.”

They walked together slowly, until they were standing in front of her three children.

Daenerys came closer first, caressing them all in turn, feeling their warm spikes under the skin of her hand. It brought her comfort like nothing else could, except maybe the memories that weren’t really memories of the nights she had spent entangled with Jon, the two of them holding each other, their hearts beating to the same tune, their breaths synchronizing.

She shook off those thoughts and spoke to her dragons in Valyrian, introducing Jon to them. Rhaegal and Viserion leaned their necks forward, looking at him in interest but Drogon, in the middle, gave a mighty roar. Daenerys perceived a little hostility directed towards Jon and frowned. It wasn’t enough that he would harm Jon but it was still a little disquieting anyway. She didn’t want her fiercest child to be angry at Jon because of her.

“Drogon!” She screamed at him with authority. Drogon grumbled a little before he settled down in a ball, his large head turned away from them. He was sulking. Daenerys almost rolled her eyes but let him be for now. Drogon loved her fiercely but he was still difficult sometimes.

“I don’t think your child likes me very much.” Jon said, having noticed the exchange.

“That’s Drogon. I named him after my husband. This green boy here is Rhaegal and this one,” she said, pointing to her cream and golden child, “is Viserion, named after my other brother Viserys. And, about Drogon, don’t take it personal. He doesn’t like anybody, not even me sometimes. And I’m his mother.” Daenerys’ words elicited a grin from Jon. Daenerys loved that grin, the crinkles at the side of his eyes, making him look younger and carefree for just a few seconds.

Her heart started beating fast in her chest, the effect he had on her without even trying was ridiculous. She calmed down with pure force of will, and instead she concentrated on the moment.

Daenerys turned towards Jon, trying to convey with her eyes the importance of the moment. “I can’t instruct you on this. Not really. It’s something that it needs to come from you. Just…try to open your senses to him, your entire being. And he will answer in kind and open himself to you. Try to think of your bond with Ghost as a point of reference.”

Jon nodded, a look of determination on his face. Then he came forward, slowly but with sure steps. He took off his glove and hesitantly gave his right hand for Rhaegal to sniff, like he was dealing with a horse instead of a huge fire-breathing dragon. Daenerys smiled a little, waiting to see how Rhaegal would respond.

Rhaegal purred like a cat, his snout rubbing against the palm of Jon’s hand. Jon turned to grin at her, proud of himself, before moving his hand to caress Rhaegal’s scales. Daenerys did the same with Viserion, hoping he wouldn’t feel left out. Drogon was still sulking but she knew he would cheer up once she would take him for a ride. She missed him. She hadn’t ridden him since she had taken King’s Landing, too busy dealing with matters of ruling.

They stayed in silence for long minutes, just petting the dragons, until…

“I think…I think I feel something.” Jon said with a low and reverential tone, his eyes closed like Rhaegal’s were. “It’s like…like a small flame. I can feel it in my chest, bright and warm. It’s…It’s amazing. I can feel him, Rhaegal. What he’s feeling. It’s a little muted but I can feel it. He’s so…so smart. His emotions are so much like our own, yet different somehow.” He opened his eyes and smiled widely at her.

Daenerys smiled back, pleased. “Yes. Dragons are extremely intelligent. And once you bond with them, their affection and loyalty are comparable to no one else’s.”

“He wants me to get on his back.” Jon said then, looking uncertain.

Daenerys smiled, endeared by his expression. “Well, go on then.”

Jon nodded after a split second of hesitancy, looking like he was trying to give himself courage. He was a little ungraceful in his movements, almost falling off more than once, but finally he was on Rhaegal’s back.

Daenerys kissed Viserion’s snout before turning towards Drogon. “Come on, grumpy. Want to go on a ride?”

Drogon grumbled a little but offered his wing for her anyway. Daenerys got on Drogon’s back, then she turned to look at him and said, “You have to give him a command in Valyrian. It’s how I taught them to follow my instructions. Though they still can sense what you want anyway.”

Jon nodded but he looked a little apprehensive. “What do I hold on to?”

Daenerys shrugged but she was smirking. “Whatever you can.” Then she directed her next words to Drogon. “ _Sōvēs”_ she said before turning towards Jon, “It means ‘fly’ in Valyrian.”

Jon nodded and repeated the same. Both Drogon and Rhaegal took off, their riders on their backs. Viserion followed them along.

It was always exhilarating, flying on a dragon, but now that she had Jon at her side, everything seemed even better. She wasn’t alone. She had family left, and it looked like Jon was finally coming to terms with who he really was.

* * *

Jon screamed when Rhaegal dropped into a nosedive before rising once again, a heartbeat close to crushing, Jon’s feet almost touching the ground. Then he laughed, a deep belly laugh, and held on to Rhaegal tighter.

He could understand why the Targaryens ruled now, why they had never let others dictated their lives, why they were so fond of the saying: ‘Targaryens answer to neither gods nor men’. When you’re on the back of a dragon, the pure power of fire and blood in your grasp, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were a little bit a god yourself.

He veered to the left, Rhaegal following his command like they were a single mind, and went after Daenerys and Drogon. He noticed that she seemed to be directed somewhere specifically.

When she landed, so did he, though a lot less gracefully. He got off from Rhaegal’s back, feeling his legs like jelly.

Jon looked around himself curiously, wondering where Daenerys had brought them. They had landed near the ruins of a big castle, a castle that had been destroyed by fire, it seemed, since some parts of the walls and roof were black and sooty. It even smelled like fire and ash, and something of this place, though Jon didn’t know why, disquieted him deeply. There was something melancholic about it, like death and sadness emanated from the ruins, like it was a physical thing. Something terrible had happened here.

“What is this place?” Jon asked Daenerys, who was standing silent, her back to him, violet gaze filled with a deep sadness. He joined Daenerys’ side.

Viserion landed last and then the three dragons went to sleep, a little away from the ruins, in a small clearing surrounded by oak trees.

“Summerhall.” Daenerys answered in a whisper.

“Oh.” Jon said, eyes widening in realization. “So that’s where…?”

“Where Aegon the Unlikely tried to bring the dragons back and ended up killing most of our family? Yes.” Daenerys said with a sigh. “But this is also the place where Rhaegar was born, did you know that? He was born that same night. While the castle burned around them, my mother was bringing Rhaegar into the world.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jon said, not exactly sure what to feel. It was still hard, connecting to a man that was long dead and that Jon had never met, though he was technically his father. He didn’t know anything about who Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had been, the only things he had heard about him during the years had been lies. But he understood what Daenerys was trying to do and he was immensely grateful to her. She was trying to include him into her family, accepting him as a Targaryen.

He hadn’t even felt that way with the Starks, like he was really part of their family, their pack. Sure, Robb had loved him but he had always made sure that he remembered who was the heir and who the bastard. He knew Robb didn’t do it to hurt him on purpose, but hurt it did nonetheless. Sansa had treated him no better than her mother, most of the time not even looking at him let alone speaking to him, and if she did look at him, she would raise her nose in the air like she had smelled something bad. Sansa had always called him ‘her half-brother’, a reminder that she didn’t really considered him her brother, not like Robb or Bran or Rickon. Bran and Rickon had treated him like they treated Robb but they had been too little when he had left to really build much of a relationship with either of them. Sure, he loved them because they were his brothers but he hadn’t _known_ them. Ned Stark had loved him, but he had always kept his distance from him and not once he had ever heard Ned called him son. Only Arya had treated him like he was her brother, in fact, Jon was sure that he had been her favourite just like she was his.

The fact that Daenerys, someone who he hadn’t grown up with, someone he didn’t even know he had a connection to, a stranger – or at least she had been a stranger when they first met – could make him feel like, maybe, he did really belong somewhere after all – like maybe he belonged with her –, it was a little scary but in the most amazing way possible. Scary like riding Rhaegal was scary, and beautiful and exciting and a lot of other adjectives he couldn’t think of at the moment.

Jon realized that that was how he felt when he spent time with Daenerys, like he was constantly on a high, like he was on an eternal ride with a dragon, like he was free but not alone, like he was part of something bigger than himself.

 _Is that what it felt like, to really love someone?_ The thought came unbidden to his mind but he tried to push it away. He couldn’t be in love with Daenerys, could he? Sure, he was incredibly attracted to her and not because she was beautiful – though she _was_ the most beautiful woman he had ever met and that he would probably meet – but because of everything that she was, her strengths and her vulnerabilities, her kindness and her ruthlessness, her cunning and her wit, her good heart and her spine of steel.

But still, he knew her from only three weeks. It was too soon. And that was without taking into consideration the fact that she was his aunt by blood. He couldn’t be in love with her. He _couldn’t_. Or at least, he shouldn’t.

“Ser Barristan told me that he used to come here often, Rhaegar. To sing and play the harp, that he would stay here for hours, expression melancholic – brooding I guess. Like father, like son, huh?” Daenerys was saying and Jon tried to pay attention to her words. “Just looking, contemplating what he had lost. I guess the tragedy of Summerhall, like they call it, was really the beginning of the end for our family. Though the Dance of Dragons was the moment when our power really began to wane, this event was probably our biggest loss. Tragedy is an appropriate word, I suppose. So many deaths…I wonder, sometimes, though you know I don’t like contemplating things that will never be, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if the tragedy at Summerhall hadn’t happened. Would that have stopped the Rebellion from happening? Or would have they simply died another way? Though, of course, if the Rebellion hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be born and, I don’t like the idea of that. I can’t imagine a word without Jon Snow in it.” She smiled at him, sunny and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.

“Really? You wouldn’t have preferred to have the rest of your family alive, in exchange for me not being born?” He couldn’t help but being skeptical.

Daenerys shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking. But Rhaegar’s choices are not your fault. Yes, Rhaegar and Lyanna running off together was reckless and stupid, but you were born because of it, so no, I don’t regret it. I wished they were all alive, my mother, your mother, Rhaegar…to see what you’ve become. They would be so proud of you.”

“How do you know?” Jon asked her, touched by her words but not sure he believed her.

“Because I just do. Because how could they not be? Your parents loved you. Rhaegar loved you, I know that, even if I never met him. But I know enough about him to know this. I know because, as much as he wasn’t perfect, Rhaegar was good and kind. And he would have loved you because you’re just like him in that regard. And he would have loved you because you’re better than him in other matters. And Lyanna…I knew she loved you. She asked Ned Stark to protect you, to keep you safe. She must have, or you wouldn’t be here. And she must have loved you because there’s nothing stronger than a mother’s love for their children. And she gave her life so that you could live, because that’s what a mother that loves her child does. I would have exchanged my life for Rhaego’s in a heartbeat, and I would do the same to save my dragons as well.”

Jon felt tears filling his eyes at Daenerys’ words, so he looked down and tried to compose himself. All his life, all he had wanted was to know who his mother was and if she had loved him. And Daenerys had given him both of those things. He knew that she was right. He knew because she had a mother’s perspective and because a mother who hadn’t cared about him wouldn’t have asked her brother to protect her child. It still hurt, of course, that she was dead and he would never have the chance to meet her, but Daenerys’ words soothed the wound like nothing else had ever done before.

“Thank you,” was all that Jon was able to say back to her, his eyes still wet. Daenerys smiled back at him, her eyes just as lucid.

There was still so much they needed to talk about. But for now, they just stood in silence, watching the sun beginning to set over the horizon.


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in more than a week but I was really busy. Also, it's very possible that I won't be able to update before the 25th of July, if not later still. Unless I manage to write something this weekend but I'm not sure. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. Still no Daario conversation but it didn't feel right in this chapter. Though I promise, they will talk about him eventually and Jon will understand Daenerys' relationship with him. Unlike what some people accused me of, I didn't put Daario into the story to make Jon jealous. I put him there because he's loyal to Dany and because he's the captain of the Second Sons (and a really good fighter who would die to protect Daenerys), like I've already stated. Anyway, enough with this author's note and on with the story!

** Chapter 22 **

“I know that it’s still difficult for you.” Daenerys finally broke the silence, turning to look back at him, the light of the setting sun framing her figure and painting her hair blood red. She was so beautiful that it was almost painful, looking at her. “And I also know that, as much as I try, I could never understand what you’re going through. But I want to try. Because I want to help you accept who you are.”

Jon shook his head, amazed at the selflessness that Daenerys was showing him. “You’re helping me more than I thought possible. Thanks to you I feel like I’m getting back something that I didn’t even know I lost.”

Daenerys smiled tremulously at him. “You’re giving me something back too. Thanks to you, I have family. When Viserys died, I still had my husband and child but after I lost them, and I found out I couldn’t have any other children, I thought that the dragons were the only family I will ever have. But now there’s you. And I know that you already have a family, the Starks, and that you and I don’t know each other very well yet, but I hope you’ll be able to consider me family too, some day.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something, wanting to tell her that he was already starting to consider her family but Daenerys kept talking. “The truth is that I need you. Not only because you’re my last chance to know what it’s like to have a family, to not be alone. I’ve been alone all my life, Jon Snow. I don’t want to be alone anymore. But it’s more than that. If something were to happen to me, I need the reassurance that there’s going to be someone that will take my place and that will continue the work I’ve started, that they will make my vision for this Country come true. And _you’re_ that person. Not only because you’re a Targaryen like me, not only because you can continue the line, and take care of my dragons even if I’m gone, but also because you’re the only person I trust to be able and _willing_ to do what it takes to change things and improve the lives of the people.”

Jon shook his head again, this time in denial. “Daenerys…I…I don’t want the throne. I can’t be your heir.”

“You have to.” Daenerys said, raising her voice slightly in her desperation. “Because there’s no one else, only you. If you don’t do it…then everything I’ve done will be for nothing. And I can’t let that happen. Do you understand? If I die and you won’t take my place, then everything I’ve suffered and lost, will be in vain. I know that I’m asking you a lot, but I don’t have a choice. You’re my only hope.”

Jon could see the pain in her eyes and he couldn’t stand it. And yet, he couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. “What makes you think that I’ll survive and you won’t? And how are you so sure that you can’t have children?”

Daenerys looked away from him. “The witch responsible for the death of my husband and child. She cursed me. I will never have a human child. If you don’t marry and have children of your own, the Targaryen line will die with us. And this Country will fall into chaos once again.”

“I didn’t even want to be King in the North.” Jon raised his voice too. “I don’t want to be King of the bloody Seven Kingdoms! It’s too much. I’m tired, Daenerys. I just want to rest. If I survive this war, all I want is to do is rest.”

Daenerys’ lips turned into the saddest smile he had ever seen, her eyes brimming with tears. “You don’t think I want the same? That I’m not tired too? That I don’t dream of going back to that house in Braavos with the red door and the lemon tree outside my window? Live a normal life as Dany, instead of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Dragon Queen? But _I can’t_. Because it would be _selfish_! We have a responsibility to the people. We have the power to change their lives for the better and, if we do _nothing_ , if we ignore the power we have and our responsibility to them, we’re no better than those who made their lives worse. Isn’t that why you came here, to find an ally in me, against the army of the dead? Isn’t that why you left the wall and instead of going south, leaving the north to its fate, you took back your home and now you’re trying so hard to protect it? Because you feel like it’s your _duty_ , just like I feel that ruling the Seven Kingdoms is my duty. You could have simply left, nobody could have stopped you. But you couldn’t, because you know it wouldn’t be the right thing, just turning their back on them, let them die. You have the power to protect them, save them from such an evil and therefore you do whatever you can to protect them and save them. Are you going to save the realm from the Army of the Dead and then let them kill each other through war and famine and who knows what else because you will do nothing? I never took you for a coward, Jon Snow.”

Jon felt Daenerys’ words like a slap to the face. What was worse was that she was right.

Before he could retort, Daenerys took a deep breath and continued speaking, calmer now. “Tell me the truth, Jon. Is it really about you not wanting it or _you just think you’re not supposed to want it_? I imagine, growing up as a bastard, you weren’t _allowed_ to want things. That if you did, you would be considered greedy. Isn’t that right? But you’re a Targaryen, you always have been. And Targaryens _want_ things, and _we take what we want_.”

Jon was amazed that, once again, she had hit the nail on the head. How was it possible that someone she had met for less than a month could see through him so easily? That she knew him and understood him better than even his own sister?

 _Because we’re the same._ A voice inside him whispered. _Because we’re made for each other._ The same voice continued but he ignored it. Now wasn’t the time to face his feelings for Daenerys.

Instead he said, “You’re right. I try not to want things for myself. And yes, partly is because they instilled into me the idea that a bastard wanting things was wrong. And there were things that I wanted when I was a child. I wanted to know who my mother was. I wanted to be a Stark. I wanted Winterfell. I wanted to be trueborn. I wanted to be my brother Robb. Instead, Robb, the real heir to Winterfell and son of Ned Stark, Robb Stark, King in the North, died, betrayed by his own bannermen, killed with his direwolf, his wife and the son he was expecting. And I’m still here, and I’m the King in the North now, like he was. I found out that my mother was Lyanna Stark, whose statue had always been there, beneath my feet, in the crypts of Winterfell, within my reach all this time and I had no idea. And I also found out that I was never a bastard in the first place. I’m a trueborn son, but not of Ned Stark like I always wanted but of Rhaegar Targaryen. Everything I’ve always wanted, twisted in the worse way I could ever imagined. And the last time I tried to take for myself something that I wanted, I fell in love with a Wilding woman. I broke my vows and…you know how it ended? She died in my arms. So, you see? Wanting things is dangerous. At least, it is for me.”

“Wanting things is dangerous for everyone.” Daenerys said, her purple eyes boring into his with an intensity he found difficult to bear. He had the urge to look away from those eyes that seemed to see too much but he didn’t. “That doesn’t mean that it’s wrong and that we should stop wanting things. Everyone should always want more than they have. Otherwise, what’s the point of living? I wanted things and I made them happen. That is the only reason why I came as far as I have. Because I never stopped wanting more for myself than what I had. And I fought for it, every single day. And sometimes I lost and the price seemed too high. But I kept fighting, for me and for others, for those that believed in me and relied on me to protect them. So, if you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for me. Because I need you to want things, I need you to fight for them and I need you to _wanting_ to live and keep living. Can you do that for me?”

Jon looked at her, once again left speechless by her strength and perseverance.

All he could do was nod.

“Good.” Daenerys smiled at him. “And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help you come to terms with who you really are.” Then her expression turned both sad and insecure. “Though I have to admit, your relationship with Ned Stark is something that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand. I never had a father. I don’t know what it’s like. Sure, I had Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah, but Jorah’s love for me was much more carnal and lustful that I was ever comfortable with, and Ser Barristan…he was taken away from me too soon. But even if he had lived, he was still someone sworn to me, I was his Queen before everything else. And my real father…well, it’s not someone I wish as my father. So, I can’t say I understand the pain you must be feeling at finding out that the man you admired most in the world, the man you’ve always wished to make proud, is not really your father. But I can tell you this, Ned Stark _is_ your father. He was your father in all the ways that mattered. He raised you and the values that you live by, are Ned Stark’s. Your duty and sense of honor, those are his. So, as long as you hold on to that, then Ned Stark will keep being your father, even when…or if – though, hopefully, when –…you decide to accept the fact that you’re a Targaryen. You can be both, Jon. You don’t have to choose. You are a Stark and you are a Targaryen.”


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait but I just graduated from Uni and then I spent a few days on vacation so these weeks have been a little hectic. Hope this chapter will help you forgive me. I hope you like it!

**Chapter 23**

“Don’t I? I wish it were that simple.” Jon said and Daenerys noticed the conflicted look in his eyes.

“It is. You just need to find a balance, the _right_ balance. Being a Stark for you means following the example set by Ned Stark, is it not? So that’s what you need to do. But you’re also a Targaryen. Therefore, you need to figure out what it means for you to be one and come to terms with it.”

“What do you mean, ‘being a Stark for me’?” Jon asked her, looking confused.

Daenerys felt a little sorry for him in that moment, for how naïve he could be sometimes. “Do you think _all_ the Starks in history were as honourable and dutiful as your father? Because I’m pretty sure the answer is no. In fact, I would say that not even Ned Stark was as honourable and dutiful as you thought he was.”

Jon’s face changed immediately into one of anger. “Don’t! You didn’t know him. He was the most honourable man I’ve ever met. He was good, all the way through!” He growled at her, words uttered between clenched teeth.

“I’m not trying to insult him. I’m trying to make you understand that your view of the world is a little too black and white. But the world is in shades of grey. No one is completely good or completely bad. People are more complex than that. Even Ned Stark.

“I mean, think about it. He had sworn an oath to Robert Baratheon, his King. If he had followed his duty to his King like he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have sworn an oath to his sister because those two oaths were in conflict with each other. Your very existence posed a threat to Robert’s reign and Ned Stark knew that. If he had been as loyal to his King as he was supposed to, he would have revealed your existence to him.

“But he didn’t. He committed treason to protect you, because you were his family, his sister’s son and probably also because it was simply the right thing to do, even if it went against the King he had sworn loyalty to. And, as far as I know, he did the same thing after Robert’s death when he was imprisoned by Joffrey and Cersei. He told a lie to have his life spared so that he could protect his daughters. And yet, he also allowed you to swear yourself to the Night’s Watch without knowing who you really were, giving up every right you had to the Iron Throne. And I can’t help but think that he let you do it, not to protect you but to somehow still maintain his oath to the Usurper in some way, to protect _his_ crown.”

Jon shook his head, though not because he didn’t believe her words but because he didn’t want to hear them. “Don’t you think I haven’t thought about this already? But if not even being a Stark means what I thought it meant, if not even my father – Ned Stark – was as honourable as I thought him to be, then…was everything I thought I knew a lie?”

Daenerys shook her head. “When I was little, Viserys used to tell me stories about our great House, the greatest dynasty this world has ever known, destroyed by usurpers and traitors. And maybe House Targaryen _was_ the greatest dynasty this world has ever known, but the people in it? They were just people. Some were good, _great_ even, while some were mad and cruel like my father.

“You can’t imagine how I felt when Ser Barristan told me the truth about my father. I was devasted. I felt so lost. I thought Viserys was just the exception. He wasn’t a true dragon, I told myself when he died. That’s why he went mad. He was unworthy of his name. He wasn’t fit to be King. But then I learnt about…the Mad King, and then about Rhaegar. How could someone who was supposed to be good and kind, kidnap a girl and rape her? Of course, that had been a lie but Rhaegar forsaking his duty to his family and to the Seven Kingdoms, that was true. But did that make him a bad person? I don’t think so. I think he was simply human and like all humans, he wasn’t perfect.

“So, when I finally learned the whole truth about the rebellion and even before, about members of my… _our_ … family like Maegor the Cruel and Aegon the Unworthy, I realized that, _I_ needed to be the one to decide what it meant to be a Targaryen. Because there was no one else and even the people that came before us, even the ‘great’ ones, like Aegon the Conqueror, they weren’t perfect. So, all I can tell you is…forget everything others think about what it means to be a Stark or a Targaryen and figure out what it means for you. And also, remember that people aren’t perfect, but the Houses, the symbols they represent, _those_ can be perfect.”

Jon nodded, looking a little dazed at her words. “What does it mean…for you, being a Targaryen?”

Daenerys smiled a little sadly. “ _Family_. _Home_. Most of all, that is what it means for me. Just like the Iron Throne, ruling the Seven Kingdoms. I’m an orphan and I can’t run away from that knowledge. All my family, except for you, is dead. And I can’t have children so I can’t build a family of my own, not of my own blood. So that’s all I have. My name and the Seven Kingdoms. And my dragons, of course. Without them I would have given up a long time ago.

“So, that’s it. Being a Targaryen, for me, is a connection to the past, something that helps me understand who I am and who I am meant to be. And it’s also my legacy. What I accomplished, and hopefully what I will accomplish in the future, that will be my legacy and the legacy of House Targaryen. And partly is because I want to redeem our family name but mostly is because of me, because I want people to think about House Targaryen and not immediately associate it with the Mad King or Rhaegar, and consequently I want people to look at me and stop seeing the Mad King’s daughter.

“I want House Targaryen to represent something great once again, thanks to me. I want the Seven Kingdoms to be united under the three-headed dragon of our House like in the past but, at the same time, I want that banner to represent something new, a different kind of great, not one based on fear, but based on kindness and compassion and _love_.

“But to accomplish that, I had to do terrible things and I probably will have to do many more yet. Because, as much as I wished otherwise, being a Targaryen also means ‘fire and blood’. I can’t escape it. Nobody who shares our blood can escape it completely, not even you. Violence and death follow us, no matter what we do. But as long as we don’t let it overcome us completely, as long as we channel that darkness into something good, we’ll be able to do great things.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Jon said, but Daenerys could see he wasn’t being completely truthful.

“My brother called it… _waking the dragon_. I simply call it dragon temper. When I get angry, it’s not simply anger, it’s rage. Like a red haze blinding me and for long moments, all I want is blood. I can’t think straight. I only know that I crave violence and fire and death. But, for the most part, I was able to stop myself.” _Until I didn’t._ Daenerys’ mind whispered but she ignored it. The dreams had been vivid but they didn’t happen. King’s Landing was still standing. And she was its Queen. “Though I made mistakes and people died. When I was about to reach Meereen, for example, the Masters crucified 163 children as a warning for me, one for each mile that separated me and my army from the city.

“So, when I conquered Meereen, I picked 163 masters and nailed them to crosses, giving them the same fate as those children. But I didn’t stop to investigate who were the ones really responsible for the death of those children. I didn’t care. To be honest, I don’t completely regret it. They were still masters. They owned people like cattle. They weren’t innocents, not as far as I’m concerned. But I still let my temper get the best of me on that occasion. And the same thing happened when Ser Barristan was assassinated. I fed one of the masters to my dragons. So, you see, some of the stories you heard about me, they’re true. My hands aren’t clean.

“When I conquered Astapor, I burned one of the Masters, the one who sold me the Unsullied, and before freeing the Unsullied, I ordered them to slaughter every single master in that city. And you know about Mirri Maz Duur, and Viserys. I also burned the Khals alive after they captured me, since they were undecided if to sell me to the masters that were trying to take back Slaver’s Bay, only after sharing me among themselves and their bloodriders and maybe their horses too, or if I had to spend the rest of my life as part of the Dosh Khaleen – the widows of the Khals – like I was supposed to after Khal Drogo died.

“Of course, either option didn’t sit well with me and escaping from Vhaes Dothrak would have meant death for me and Ser Jorah and Daario who had come to rescue me. So, I did what I had to do, proving my strength to the Dothraki and in return gaining their loyalty, uniting all the different khalasars into one. Fire and Blood is who I am. But it’s not _all_ that I am.”

Jon nodded. “I understand. I had to kill people too. I didn’t like it but I did what I had to do. Sometimes there’s no other option. And what you said, about your dragon temper. I understand that as well. When I was young I felt angry basically all the time. I was like a fuse, ready to go off at any moment. After I joined the Night’s Watch, I learnt to control it better but sometimes I lose control, like what happened with Ramsey. I would have killed him with my fists if I hadn’t seen Sansa standing there and realized that she needed to be the one to dispense justice against him. It became worse after…” He stopped but Daenerys knew what he wanted to say. She wondered when or even if he was ever going to reveal it to her.

Jon sighed and to her surprise, said, “What I am about to tell you might be difficult for you to believe, even after all that you did and saw. But it’s the truth. And I can prove it to you. But first, I want you to promise me that you won’t say anything, to anyone.”

Daenerys nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

“I died, Daenerys. I was killed and then resurrected three days later.” And with that he explained to her how he had allowed the Wildings south of the Wall and how some of his brothers of the Night’s Watch felt he had betrayed his purpose as Lord Commander. How he was lured to the courtyard of Castle Black by his steward Olly, with the tale that his uncle Benjen had been sighted, and there stabbed seven times, the last one in the heart, always by Olly.

While he talked, he started to undress. First his chest armour, then his gambeson and then, finally, his tunic. And there, exposed to her eyes, the seven scars she had, until now, seen only in her dreams. They still looked red, barely healed. Almost like they could reopen at any moment.

Daenerys felt her eyes filling with tears at the sight. She didn’t want to think about him being dead, bleeding on the snow. She had felt it, when he had died. In the desert, after Drogon had rescued her from the Sons of the Harpy in the Daznak’s Pit. She had heard a wolf howling. A continent away from him, without even meeting him, and she had felt him die.

“I laid dead for three days, or at least that’s what ser Davos told me. But all I remember is darkness. There was nothing but endless darkness. Until I came back, thanks to a red priestess. Melisandre.”

“I know her. She’s the one who came here and told me to summon you.”

“What?” Jon asked, not expecting that.

“I would have done it anyway but after her words, I was even more curious to know my brother’s son. She painted an intriguing picture of you. And I have to say, you didn’t disappoint my expectations.” She smiled at him, a little flirtatiously, unable to help herself.

Jon blushed a little. “You, on the other hand, weren’t at all like I imagined.”

“Oh? And what did you imagine?” Daenerys raised her eyebrow in challenge.

Jon shrugged, then smirked. “Someone taller.”

Daenerys gasped in fake outrage. “Look who’s talking. It’s not like you’re very tall either.”

Jon grinned. “True.” Then he sobered a little. “In truth, I couldn’t ever have imagined someone like you. You tossed all my misconceptions and prejudices out the window. You’re extraordinary Daenerys. And if there’s one thing I’m sure of, is that House Targaryen will be great once again, thanks to you.”

“It will be great once again thanks to _us_.” Daenerys corrected, coming closer to him and putting a hand gently on his cheek. “You’re pretty extraordinary yourself, having died and being resurrected and everything. And now you’re a dragonrider as well. If there’s someone that can help me in this endeavour, it’s you.”

Jon smiled at her, a little adoring, and then, without warning, he kissed her.


	25. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, angsty chapter! Hope you like it anyway! Tell me what you think!

** Chapter 24 **

A million dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the reality of kissing Daenerys Targaryen. Her lips were even softer than he had imagined, plump and perfect and delicious. He caressed her lower lip with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. Her mouth was like an exotic fruit, succulent and ripe. He bit her upper lip gently and Daenerys moaned slightly and pulled him closer. Their tongues entwined like serpents, seeking each other, chasing each other.

Jon held her tightly, feeling the silks of her dress rubbing pleasurably against his still naked chest. He brought a hand behind her head, letting his fingers pass through her silky locks and cupping her neck to bring her even closer to him.

He felt suddenly desperate for her, desperate to close the space that still separated them, wanting to fuse them together into one being. His lungs screamed for him the need to breathe but he didn’t want to leave the haven that was her mouth against his. She felt like home in his arms, like she belonged there and nowhere else.

He never wanted to let her go.

But then, something changed. He felt her go rigid in his arms and then she was pushing at his chest with her palms, wanting to put distance between them.

Jon crashed back to reality as soon as Daenerys had moved a few steps away from him.

He looked at her, breath coming out of his mouth like he had run for miles in a desert. She was pacing, clearly agitated and he didn’t know what to do.

What the hell was he thinking, kissing her like that?

“Daenerys…” He tried to say something, anything, to calm her down. But Daenerys raised a hand in a clear sign. “Don’t! Please, just…”

She breathed deeply, closed her eyes and then turned to look at him. “Why? Why would you do that?”

Jon shrugged and said the only thing he could say, “Because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you.”

Daenerys’ eyes widened. “You can’t! You don’t mean that!” She looked confused but more than that…she looked…scared? Why would she be scared? Was she scared of him?

Daenerys’ reaction had the opposite effect of what he was expecting. Watching her being so affected by what he had done, made him realize something that had been obvious for a while and that he simply didn’t want to admit because he thought it was wrong. But was it, really?

“I do.” Jon said, feeling calm in his sudden resolution. Why did he lose so much time fighting this? Being in denial about what he wanted? He wanted _her_. It was as simple as that. And it was Daenerys’ own words that sprang to his mind now. _Targaryens take what they want_. And wasn’t he a Targaryen as well?

Yet another thing he had been trying to deny. But no longer. He was what he was. Being in denial about it wouldn’t change the fact that his real father was Rhaegar Targaryen. And being in denial about it wouldn’t change the fact that he was in love with Daenerys Targaryen, his aunt.

It wasn’t sudden. It had been growing for a while and yet, it had come about rather quickly. He had only met her three weeks ago and they had spent together only a handful of times but it had clearly been enough. He had never felt so much and so strongly for anyone so quickly but it didn’t feel strange or rushed. It felt _right_.

“No, you don’t!” Daenerys denied, suddenly sounding like an uncertain child. “We’re related. I’m your aunt, remember?”

“Oh, I know.” Jon shrugged again.

“And you don’t care?” Daenerys asked him, almost prodding him into having some kind of negative reaction.

Did she think he had forgotten about it? That he needed a reminder? Because he certainly didn’t. It was the only reason he had been fighting his feelings for her in the first place.

Well, not the _only_ reason. There were political reasons to consider as well. He was King in the North and she was Queen of the rest of the Kingdoms. The time wasn’t ideal since they were about to go to war against an army of dead men.

But all of this could have been overlooked, or easily solved with a marriage. Wasn’t that what Davos has been saying all along? Marriage would solve most of their problems.

He wouldn’t need to bend the knee to her and Daenerys would get the North without too much fuss. Even the Northern Lords would probably accept it more easily since it meant that their King would also become King of the Seven Kingdoms.

And this way, he wouldn’t feel like this alliance was completely one-sided, with Daenerys giving him everything he needed and her getting nothing in return.

“I did, at first. But then I realized that it doesn’t matter. In fact, I think we should get married.” Jon said then, surprised once again at the certainty in his tone. Where did this sudden confidence come from?

It was thanks to Daenerys, he realized. Daenerys had helped him accept who he really was. And with this acceptance, everything else suddenly fit into place.

“Are you out of your mind?” Daenerys asked, her voice rising in volume and violet eyes wide with astonishment.

“No. In fact, I’ve never felt more lucid than in this moment. Or surer of anything.”

All his life he had felt like part of his identity was missing and because of that, he could never really belong to the North and the Starks, as much as he wanted to. He had thought it was because he didn’t know who his mother was, and because his father had never legitimized him, made him a true Stark. Therefore, he had always felt like an outsider, never really belonging to Winterfell and with the rest of his family.

He had always felt different. And it was more than because he had thought he was a bastard. There was something in him that didn’t belong in the North. The nightmares he used to have about the crypts of Winterfell were proof of that. And the fact that he used to struggle with his temper all the time. The way he had always felt angry and thirsty for violence. None of his siblings were like that, not even Arya whom he had been the closest with.

He had never felt worthy of anything. Always feeling like there was something intrinsically wrong with him, somehow. The only stain in Ned Stark’s perfect reputation. And yet, he had wanted things anyway. Feeling like he was the greedy bastard Catelyn had always accused him of and yet unable to stop wanting more for himself than what he had.

Wasn’t it one of the reasons why he had joined the Night’s Watch? Because this way he wouldn’t pose a threat to Robb’s claim to Winterfell? To pacify Catelyn and show the world that he was better than his birth? To make his father proud? To prove to himself that he could be just as honourable as Ned Stark?

But none of it had been true. He had never been a bastard. He was born a Prince, a Targaryen Prince at that. Just like the ones in the stories he used to read as a child. And Ned Stark had robbed him of that. He might have done it to protect him and he might have done it to keep his oath to Robert Baratheon and with that his honour but he had still stolen his identity away from him.

Jon didn’t think he could ever forgive him for that. He still loved him. Ned Stark would always be his father and Jon would always try to follow his example but he could never think of him the same way ever again.

Maybe that, in a way, had made things a little easier for him, though. Jon admitted that he had put Ned Stark on a pedestal. The ideal impossible to reach but that he had always strive to emulate anyway.

But Daenerys was right. No man was perfect, not even Ned Stark. Ned had made mistakes just like everyone else and because of that, Jon could accept the fact that it was okay for him to want to get to know the other part of his bloodline, the Targaryen line. It didn’t feel like a betrayal anymore.

Ned Stark was the man who had raised him and nothing would ever change that. But Rhaegar Targaryen was his real father, he was born of his seed and, now he believed that – once again thanks to Daenerys – if he had lived, Rhaegar would have loved him.

Accepting Lyanna Stark as his mother had been easier but Jon could admit he had been struggling with accepting Rhaegar Targaryen as his father.

But not anymore. And that was all thanks to Daenerys. Daenerys who had made him feel like he was truly part of something. Daenerys that accepted him into her family without reservations. Daenerys who had allowed him to ride one of her dragons, her child. Daenerys who had made him her heir.

And it was thanks to her that he _felt_ like a Targaryen now. He could have never have accepted it without her to show him the way.

He still needed to figure out what it meant for him, being a Targaryen, like Daenerys had said. But he knew one thing. Targaryens married each other. And they were the last ones.

It wasn’t wrong to love her. How could it be wrong when being with her felt like home?

They had grown up at opposites sides of the world, the last of their kinds, and yet, they had found each other here, in the city their ancestors had built. Wasn’t that a sign all on its own?

They were meant to be together. He knew that now. It was obvious, clear like nothing else in his life had ever been.

“We can’t marry.” Daenerys said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Why not?” Jon asked, bewildered. “It makes sense, Daenerys. We’re the last two Targaryens left alive. And with you marrying me, you will get the North and I won’t need to bend the knee for it. Even the Northern Lords will accept it more easily. And well, there’s an even more important reason. I love you. And I know you feel something for me too. I felt it, in that kiss.”

Daenerys shook her head, a hollow laugh leaving her lips. “No, you don’t. You think you do but it’s only an attraction. You see my beauty and my dragons and my power and you think I’m this perfect woman but I’m not. You don’t know what I’m capable of. Not really. You say you understand but the moment you’ll see me execute a man with dragonfire, you’ll think of me as the Mad King’s daughter once again. It’s inevitable. Ned Stark’s son will never accept me and love me for whom I am.”

Jon looked at her and saw all her insecurities reflected in her beautiful violet eyes. How could he have been so blind? Daenerys looked so sure of herself and her believes all the time that it was easy to forget that she was just a woman underneath all that. She might have made impossible things happen and her people looked at her like she was a goddess but she was still just a human being, and like all humans, she had her insecurities as well.

“It’s lucky then, that I’m Rhaegar Targaryen’s son, don’t you think?” Jon said, coming closer to her.

Daenerys flinched and stepped away from him. She looked terrified. “Are you? You’ve always wanted to be a Stark, Ned Stark’s son. You told me that. Now you’re suddenly okay with being Rhaegar Targaryen’s son?” She asked then, regaining part of her usual confidence. She still looked shaken though.

“I’m accepting it. And that’s thanks to you.” Jon said, keeping his voice soothingly low.

“You say you love me and that you want to marry me and that you’re okay with being a Targaryen but that’s just because you are away from Winterfell and the North, your true home with your true family. You’ll change your mind once you return there and I will be left with nothing.” She looked away from him then but not fast enough for him not too see the tears filling her eyes.

“Why do you say that? Why do you think I’ll change my mind once we go North? I love you, Daenerys and I want to marry you! You can’t think me so undecided and weak-minded that I would change my mind on something so important! I know what I want!” Jon ended up screaming the last words, frustrated with her reasons.

“What happens when your family, your friends and your bannermen don’t accept me? When they try to force you to leave me? You will be forced to choose and you won’t choose me.”

Jon was taken aback by her words and for long moments he didn’t know what to answer. Not because he agreed with her but because he didn’t understand how she was so sure that Sansa and the Northern Lords will never accept her and will force him to choose.

Daenerys continued before he could find the words to express his thoughts. “All of this is irrelevant anyway. We can’t marry for one very simple reason. I can’t have children. I told you that. House Targaryen needs heirs and I can’t give you that so you will have to marry someone else. What you or I want is completely irrelevant.”

“No!” Jon denied immediately. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe in a curse that a vindictive witch supposedly put on you. You made impossible things happen before. You returned dragons to the world after they were extinct for a century. Is a curse supposed to stop you from having children? I don’t think so. And even if it was really true, I won’t care anyway. I won’t marry anyone else but you. I don’t want anyone else but you. We’ll find someone else who could be our heir.”

Daenerys shook her head, now openly crying. Jon hated seeing her tears. “Stop. You and I can never be together. It doesn’t matter what I feel or what you think you feel for me. We’re simply not meant to be.”

“Why? What makes you so sure of that?” Jon asked, feeling desperate now.

“Because I don’t trust you.” Daenerys said simply and it felt like a punch in the gut. “Or rather, I don’t trust that you would put me above anything and anyone else. If you had to choose between duty and honour, and me, you would choose duty and honour every time. And if it came down to me and the Starks, you would choose the Starks. And I understand that, I even admire you for it, for always doing the right thing, no matter what. But that is not what I need or want in the man I will share my life with. I want and need a man that would choose me, every time, even if the choice was between me and the death of millions of people. I know that it’s an impossible thing to ask of you and I understand that you could never give me that because that is just not who you are. So, that’s why you and I could never be together, no matter how much I love you or how much you say you love me. And yes, you were right. I do feel something for you. I love you. But it doesn’t matter. Because you could never love me the way I need to be loved. So, please, can we just forget that this happened? It’s getting late. We should get back.”

And with that, before he had even time to process what had happened, she reached Drogon in a few strides, jumped on his back and flew away.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just to clarify, because it seems it's not clear. Daenerys' comment: 'even if the choice was between me and the death of millions of people.' is a hyperbole, an exaggeration. She doesn't really want Jon to be the kind of man who is okay with Daenerys killing millions of people, she doesn't want a Jaime Lannister, and she would never want to put him in the position of having to choose between her and the death of millions. I thought it was rather clear from the nightmares she has, of the fact that she's definitely not okay with what she would have done. She's still filled with an immense amount of guilt for something that she hasn't even actually done so no, she would have not being okay with Jon being by her side with her having just destroyed a city, that's not who Daenerys is or wants to be. She wouldn't have tried so hard to change things if she were okay with what she had done, she would have burnt the city in this reality as well if she had been okay with what happened in her dreams. So, some accusations that I received on the comment section, I don't really understand them.
> 
> The point of the dialogue is to show the fact that Daenerys doesn't trust that Jon will remain 'steadfast and true' on his feelings for her, no matter what happens. That he wouldn't choose his family, friends and duty and honour over her, like what happened in her dreams. Remember that, as far as she's concerned, Jon abandoned her the moment he found out the truth about himself, therefore way before Daenerys destroyed King's Landing. The fact that he went as far as killing her after betraying her and abandoning her is something that she has some difficulty letting go of. She knows rationally why Jon had to kill her, but that doesn't mean that emotionally, she's over it and that now she can trust Jon without reservations, because it's not that easy.


	26. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter. A small glimpse into Daenerys' mind after Jon's proposal. And damn, is our girl in denial or what? Anyway, hope you like it!

** Chapter 25 **

Daenerys slept fitfully that night, her slumber plagued with visions and memories. Jon telling her he wanted to marry her, Jon kissing her and then stabbing her, their first meeting at Dragonstone, their first meeting in King’s Landing, Jon riding Rhaegal for the first time, twice – one today and one in her dreams –, the two of them making love on that ship on the way North, Jon kissing her just a few hours ago, Daenerys trying to kiss him after killing Varys, the look of Jon’s face, the fear and disgust, the rejection. Jon telling Daenerys the truth about his parents, Daenerys telling Jon the truth. Daenerys begging Jon not to tell. Over and over these scenes kept repeating themselves in her mind.

She woke at dawn, exhausted and upset. How could Jon do this? How could he put her in that position? Daenerys couldn’t help but resent him, being angry with him. What was wrong with him? In her dreams he had been disgusted with their relation and now he wanted to marry her?

No matter how much she tried, she really couldn’t understand how his mind worked sometimes. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he had asked her to marry her just so he could become King. Maybe he would try to get rid of her once married, so he could have the throne for himself.

Daenerys shook her head. That was her paranoia talking, Viserys’ voice whispering in her ear.

But that proved what she was already aware of. She didn’t trust him. She had wanted to, she had tried. In some matters she trusted him. She trusted him as a queen trusted the person she had made her heir, she trusted him with matters of ruling. But when it came to personal matters, when it came to feelings and emotions, she didn’t. She wondered if it would always be like this. If she would always expect Jon to betray her the moment she would lower her guard.

It was a sad prospect. Daenerys didn’t want to live this way. She wanted to put what she had seen in her dreams behind her. She had changed so many things already, why would she keep concerning herself with things that didn’t happen and that will never happen? Or, at least, she hoped they wouldn’t.

Daenerys had been prepared for her and Jon to live separate lives after the war against the dead. Daenerys would rule in the south, Jon will be her Warden of the North or King in the North, but either way, he would have stayed in the North. He would have married some northern girl, have children and those children would have taken the throne after Daenerys’ death. Daenerys would have probably married some man from the Crownlands or something, or maybe someone from the Vale since they were, beside the North, the only region not under her control. Just another political marriage without emotions involved. There will be no children from that union but that didn’t matter. She would have married a second son or something. Someone who wouldn’t care about children since they were never supposed to inherit anything anyway.

She had everything planned out. Not the greatest prospect, but something that would maintain order in the Kingdoms, which was what it really mattered anyway. She had tried love once (twice) before and it had ended in tragedy. She had tried a relationship only based on lust and it had left her feeling lonely and empty. A political marriage was the best she could hope for. And she was alright with that. She had the people to take care of, theirs was the only love she would have needed.

But then Jon Snow, like usual, had come and destroyed every certainty she had.

For a moment, when they were kissing, Daenerys had forgotten everything but the man holding her in his arms. Nothing else had mattered. But then, reality had pushed its way into her mind and she had pushed him away.

And then Jon had proposed. And Daenerys had felt hope. For a second, she had wanted to say yes. Wanting to forget her fears and doubts and just trust him with her heart.

But she couldn’t. Jon didn’t love her. He hadn’t loved her in her dreams and he didn’t love her now. He was just infatuated with her. He had put her on some kind of pedestal and he couldn’t see what she really was. He couldn’t see the dragon underneath. Just like he had rejected the dragon inside himself for years, never accepting it as a part of himself, he would reject the dragon inside her as well. It was inevitable. Jon said he understood but he didn’t.

He was away from everything he had always known now. He was confused. He wasn’t in his right mind. But once he will return North, he will remember who he really was, whom he was really loyal to, and he will reject her again. And if Daenerys gave him her heart now, she would not survive Jon rejecting and pushing her away like in her dreams. It would break her. Jon would break her and she couldn’t allow that. Daenerys wasn’t a weak, little girl whose happiness depended on a man’s love for her. She was a dragon, she was a Queen. She couldn’t allow Jon to have that much power over her.

Daenerys shook her head. Nothing had to change. Jon was still her nephew. She would continue treat him as such and forget what had happened. Maybe Jon’s proposal had just been a spur of the moment kind of thing, some temporary insanity caused by Jon’s first time riding a dragon and their honest talks after that. Daenerys was sure he was already regretting asking her. Jon wasn’t the impulsive type. She was. Such a thing was completely out of character for him, therefore it hadn’t been real.

Yes, she would forget it ever happened at all. This way, she would spare him the embarrassment to take back his proposal and the awkwardness that would ensued between them because of it.

Anyway, now wasn’t the time to think about such things. They had a war to prepare for. Neither of them could afford getting distracted by such nonsense.

She ignored the twinge in her heart that hadn’t left her since Jon had declared himself.

Hope was a terrible thing. Daenerys couldn’t help but hate Jon just a little for that. And herself as well for still be so desperate for this man’s love even after knowing what such a love would bring her. She was pathetic.

Jon Snow made her weak. And she despised weakness. Why then, couldn’t she simply despise him?

Everything would be much simpler if she did.


	27. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back, after a month HIATUS. Hope you like this chapter and the glimpse inside Jon's mind. Our boy has a lot on his mind, just like Dany. But he's still very determined and decisive, which is how I like him. Tell me what you think!

** Chapter 26 **

When Jon had returned to the Red Keep last night, he had ignored Davos’ teasing questions and not-so veiled comments about him and Daenerys, but he knew sooner or later he needed to tell his unofficial Hand the truth about what was really going on, not only with Daenerys but also about him, about his real parents.

But how could he explain to someone else something that he still had a problem dealing with himself? So much had happened in only three weeks and he felt like he could barely keep up.

His whole life had shifted on its axis and, as much as he tried to hold on to whom he was, to how things used to be, he could feel them all slipping away. It wasn’t like he was losing himself, more like he was finally finding himself for the first time.

He felt like he was on the verge of some kind of transformation, had been since the moment he _met_ Daenerys Targaryen. A small part of him still felt like he should fight it, should protest the changes he felt deep inside him, but the greatest part of him simply didn’t care, in fact, he relished in it.

Jon wondered if it was simply his Targaryen side, hidden away, buried deep until now, finally coming to the surface, growing and blossoming, like the tiny spark in the hearth giving life to a raging fire.

 _Kill the boy, Jon Snow, and let the man be born_. Maester Aemon’s words came to his mind. He had thought he had ‘killed the boy’, when he let Ygritte go, when he let the Wildings south of the Wall, when he was betrayed and killed, when he was resurrected and then fought to take back his home.

He hadn’t _wanted_ to keep living, but he felt like he had to, like he _needed to_. He tried to convince himself that Sansa needed him, to protect her and help her. But Sansa didn’t want his protection and help. Sansa had wanted Winterfell, had wanted the North, because Sansa wanted power and control. So that she could protect herself, so that what had happened to her because of Ramsey would never happen again. So that she would never be powerless again.

Jon understood that. How could he not? And yet, in the back of his mind, a terrible thought kept nagging him. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, for Sansa, it wouldn’t have been better if he had died in the Battle of the Bastards. With him alive, Sansa had to share power before he had been named King, and once he had been named King, she was once again – in her mind – forced to defer to someone else’s will and whims.

Not that Sansa _wanted_ him dead. He didn’t believe that. But she didn’t want him King in the North either. She didn’t want to submit to the authority of her bastard brother either. She couldn’t trust him, she couldn’t trust anyone as far as he could see.

So, if not for Sansa, for his only remaining family – as far as he had known at the time – what else was he alive for? The reason seemed obvious. The Night King, the Army of the Dead. That was his _purpose_.

That was the reason why he had been brought back to life. To warn the world of the threat of the dead, to fight against them and protect and save as many people as he could. What highest mission could there be if not this? What better reason to keep living?

But meeting Daenerys had changed _everything_. It was _still_ changing everything. Thanks to her he had found himself _glad_ to be alive, _wanting_ to keep living. Daenerys made him feel alive in a way he had never experienced before.

Jon knew he had loved Ygritte. He did. But it had been the love of a boy without any previous experience. Everything had been new and exciting and forbidden in the most delicious of ways. But he had known, it was a love that would have never lasted.

Even if Ygritte had still been alive when Jon was brought back to life, not bound to the vows of the Night’s Watch anymore, they still wouldn’t have lasted long. They had been too different.

It wasn’t like Ygritte had been a bad person. But she had been fundamentally _selfish_. Nothing mattered more to her than her own self-preservation. With the life she had led, it was normal, expected even. But that wasn’t the kind of person Jon felt like he could remain with for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t imagine being happy with someone that was willing to let innocent people die just so she could keep on living.

That was why being with Daenerys felt so natural, _inevitable_ even. Falling in love with her had been inevitable.

It wasn’t just that Daenerys was beautiful, kind, fierce and brave. She was also extremely selfless. She put the interests and well-being of her people ahead of herself and her wishes. She wasn’t just a good person, she was a good Queen. A Queen that would fight to protect and save all her people, that would put her own life on the line for them. The kind of Queen the North needed, though he wasn’t sure they deserved her.

For the first time, Jon felt like duty and love could actually coincide for him. He didn’t need to choose. He wanted to marry Daenerys because he loved her, but loving her, marrying her, wouldn’t go against his duty to his people, to the North.

It had been so obvious for him. What did it matter if they were related? Targaryens had married brother to sister for centuries and even in House Stark there were some marriages between nieces and uncles. He was tired of fighting what he felt for her. He really had no valid reason for it.

And a million reasons why marrying her was a good idea. Jon saw how fiercely Daenerys cared about the people under her protection. If Jon married her, the Northerners would become _her_ people as well and she would fight for them, protect them.

And Daenerys being his wife, building a family with her, would give him more reasons to wanting to live, to survive this war, to fight more fiercely, just so he could get to spend with her every day of his life.

And yet, she had said _no_. Not because she didn’t love him, but because she didn’t trust him not be true to her. To be loyal to her like a husband should. Was there a reason why she felt he would abandon her at the first sign of trouble? Jon knew that, as much as he loved her and she loved him, they didn’t know each other very well yet. But she had been so sure. So certain that, once they would return North he would change his mind about her, and about his feelings for her. So secure in her belief that the Northern Lords and even his family – Sansa, he assumed she meant – would never accept her. That he would be forced to choose between them and that he wouldn’t choose her.

Jon didn’t understand. Didn’t she see that he had already chosen her? He didn’t care if Sansa wouldn’t be happy if he married Daenerys. She already wasn’t happy with him anyway. Sansa didn’t keep secret the fact that she felt like she would be better suited to rule the North than he was. That she deserved to rule the North more than he did. Jon loved his sister but he wasn’t blind to her faults. Jon didn’t believe Sansa would actually betray him and move against him to take the North from him, but she certainly wasn’t shy in voicing her complaints in front of the rest of the Lords when he did something she thought was wrong, and that was often.  

And the Northern Lords? They were stubborn fools, most of them. Too proud to accept they desperately needed help from the South or they wouldn’t survive the Winter, army of the dead or not. But they would fall in line. They would grumble and complain, but Davos was right, in the end, they would accept his decision, as long as he kept Sansa in check. They didn’t have a choice. And anyway, if they were stupid enough to complain because he was going to marry a queen who ruled the rest of the Kingdoms, had three dragons and three armies, then they deserved what they got.

If they ever thought to betray him…well, he wouldn’t shy away from executing traitors if it came to that. He had done it before.

Jon didn’t like the idea of ruling using fear, but he knew it was necessary sometimes. He didn’t like killing, but sometimes he couldn’t avoid it.

And that was another reason why he couldn’t understand Daenerys’ thought process. She was convinced that he would change his mind about her when he would realize who she really was. What did that mean? He _knew_ who she was. He knew she had to kill before, just like he did. He knew she executed people with dragonfire because Drogon was, in a way, an extension of herself. It was her way to take responsibility for every execution. She couldn’t do it herself with a sword, but she still passed the sentence herself. How could she think he wouldn’t understand that? He also knew that she hadn’t killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. He knew that she didn’t enjoy killing either, but there was still some kind of darkness inside her that revelled in the bloodshed. He understood that as well because he was exactly the same.

They were the _blood of the dragon_ and Jon was finally starting to realize what that really meant.

They were so similar. They just _fit_ together. Jon wasn’t one to believe in destiny and yet, he really felt like he and Daenerys were meant to be. How could she not see that? Did she not feel _complete_ like he felt when he was by her side? Like she would never feel alone again? Like she had finally found her home, the place where she really belonged? Because that’s what he felt for her.

Jon wasn’t simply going to accept her no. He was going to talk to her, ask her why. There was more that she wasn’t saying and he needed to know what it was. He wasn’t going to give up so easily. He knew what he wanted. And this time he wouldn’t turn away from fighting for what he wanted. He was going to marry her and no one else. He didn’t know if he deserved her but he would certainly strive to, for the rest of his days if she would let him.

But first, he had to meet her and her retinue for the visit at the orphanages and pretend that everything was fine and that he wasn’t impatient for this day to end so he could talk to her.

Davos was definitely going to notice something was up. He really needed to talk to him. He could use his advice at the moment.


	28. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not 100% satisfied with this chapter but here it is, I guess. I hope you like it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Also, forgive me if this story is sometimes more tell than show but if I don't do that, it'd become too big. Maybe one day, once I actually finish it, I will revise it and expand on those parts that needs more 'showing'. But, for now, that's how it's going to be.

** Chapter 27 **

Daenerys’ mood progressively worsened for every orphanage they visited during the day. There was so much to do, so much to fix, that she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

These places, that were supposed to house children, were all so _bleak_. They all were in severe disrepair, more than ten children sleeping in every bedroom, without real beds or blankets. With no courtyard, or garden, just surrounded by walls on all sides, no better than a prison.

Even the ones in the wealthier parts of town, the ones with enough funds for food and clothes, they were grey and dreary. And every child she had talked to, every child she saw that day, they all shared the same look of hopelessness. The look of an orphan who felt didn’t have a place in the world, whose future was something to fear. Children who were alone, with no one to care for them, no one to love them.

She had felt the same once. But she did have someone. Viserys had been kind once. And then there was Ser Willem. And her house with the red door.

And suddenly, Daenerys knew what to do. Every child deserved their own little house with the red door and a lemon tree. A place they could call home. And she would give it to them. She was their Queen, and she would be their Mhysa as well, just like she was for the freed slaves in Essos.

Daenerys couldn’t have children of her own blood, therefore, all these children with no parents would become hers to take care of and love.

Determination filled her, warming her from the inside, and a smile came unbidden to her lips.

She felt his eyes on her yet again, intense and probing but she ignored him, or tried to, at least. She didn’t have the time to deal with her complicated feelings for Jon Snow at the moment. She was Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen today, not Dany. And Queen Daenerys had a job to do.

They had finally arrived at the last orphanage in the city, one of the many located in Flea Bottom.

The building had three rooms, if they could be called that, with no door to separate them but only open walls, and a ceiling which looked like it could come down on them at any moment. And everywhere on the floor, there were rats and insects. And the smell, that permeated the very walls, was almost unbearable.

Daenerys had seen worst places in her life but this orphanage certainly came close. Still, she kept smiling and approached the only adult in the place. A woman, clearly over fifty namedays, of a stout build but with kind eyes.

Missandei, without prodding needed, started to oversee the handing out of food, clothes, blankets and toys for all the children. Daenerys had also tasked her with taking notes of all they had seen that day and what needed to be done about it. And Missandei had been as efficient as usual.

“Your grace.” The middle-aged woman greeted her with a bow.

“Well met, madam. What is your name?”

“Erin, your grace.”

“Erin. And are you the owner of this building?”

“Oh no, your grace. I’m just the one takin’ care of them children. The owner’s never here. Collects the money every moonturn and then, we don’t see him for another moonturn.”

“I see.” Daenerys said, displeased. “And I suppose he pockets most of the funds given to him by the crown to actually take care of the children and their needs.”

Erin lowered her head and nodded.

“Rest assured, I will take care of this.” Daenerys made a note to task Tyrion with searching for how much the crown had allocated for every single orphanage and who were the other benefactors that funded them. She needed to know where the money actually went. “But tell me about the children, Erin. I only see the little ones. No more than ten namedays. Where are the older ones?”

Erin kept avoiding her eyes. “They get thrown out, your grace. Not by me, but old Myles won’t allow them to stay past their tenth nameday. Says they need to earn their bread.”

Daenerys gritted her teeth, trying to restrain her temper. That wasn’t the first time she had heard of children forced to abandon the place they lived – and not only orphanages – because, according to their guardians, they were old enough to fend for themselves. No wonder there were so many children living on the streets.

But no more. She would not allow that to happen anymore. She would pass new laws, laws that protected the smallfolk’s rights, but especially children’s.

Parents and guardians wouldn’t be allowed to kick children out of their homes before they were sixteen. And every child, from the age of twelve, would be required to earn a trade – if possible, something of their own choosing. Shops’ owners and the like would be paid a sum to take in apprentices to teach them a trade, and the crown would take in the responsibility themselves to find them a job once they reached adulthood. She would also need to establish some kind of minimum wage as well, so that, no matter the job, everyone would be able to feed themselves and their families without struggles. And, of course, every child would be taught how to read, write and count, as well as everyone else who didn’t yet know how. Not only in King’s Landing or the crownlands, but in every kingdom.

It wasn’t something that could happen overnight but – only if she survived the war against the army of the dead, that was – she hoped in five to ten years, she could see at least part of her vision realized in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Well, that was only if the stubborn northerners would realize that the North couldn’t survive on its own and finally accept the idea of returning to be part of the Seven Kingdoms and give up on their impracticable idea of independence. She didn’t have much hope of that, to be honest, but it seems that Jon, at least, was coming around to the idea.

Daenerys’ eyes turn unbidden to the object of her thoughts and she found him talking to one of the children, an endearing smile on that usually broody and melancholic face. A fierce possessiveness surged in her blood at seeing him like this with children. And a deep sadness as well.

Jon Snow would make an amazing father. But she would never be able to give him a child, no matter how much she longed for it.

Daenerys castigated herself for those thoughts. Wasn’t just yesterday that she had rejected his proposal because she couldn’t trust him? And here she was, wishing she could marry him and give him children.

Jon Snow could turn her into a foolish, little girl without even doing anything. It was appalling how much control he had on her just by simply being himself.

Her feet brought her closer to him before she realized what she was doing, feeling like she was bound to some kind of rope and something was simply tugging her towards him, pushing her to be at his side, close to him always.

Was it their shared blood that bound them to each other so? Or was it something else? Daenerys didn’t know. She only knew that she couldn’t stop herself from seeking him out, unable to stay away from him for long.

Jon was showing one of the children – one of those who had chosen a wooden sword as a toy – his valyrian steel sword, Longclaw. The child, Ky, wanted to become a knight when he grew up. He was small enough yet not to understand that only those of noble blood were allowed to become knights. Or bastards from noble houses. Definitely not common people’s children.

“Are you a knight?” Ky asked Jon with wide, admiring, blue eyes. He had dark hair, short and messy. He was rather tall for his age but lean, with very pale skin.

“No, I’m not. I’m from the North.” Jon answered. “We really don’t have knights there.”

“He’s certainly gallant and brave enough to be one, though.” Daenerys intervened, her mouth opening without her consent.

“Your grace.” Jon greeted her, though he didn’t rise from his position, staying on bent knees to be eye to eye with the child. His eyes were warm while looking at her, longing. She tried to ignore how that look made her feel.

“King Jon.” Daenerys greeted back. She had thought he would be frustrated with her at the very least for rejecting him, or even embarrassed and trying to avoid her because he had regretted his proposal. Instead, he looked…resolute.

Daenerys sent a silent prayer to gods she didn’t really believe in to spare her from stubborn, infuriating Northern kings. She really couldn’t figure out how his mind worked sometimes.

There were times when she thought she knew him and understood him more than anyone else and others when he baffled her completely.

She turned her head away from him and looked at the child, instead. Ky was sweet but bold. He looked at her with big, shining eyes. He told her that he wanted to be a knight to protect other children like him from bad people. There was something so serious and mature in his eyes that told Daenerys that child had seen his fair share of violence and injustices.

And that was what spurred Daenerys to make Ky a promise. “I will employ a master of arms to teach you how to use a sword. You and all those like you that want to learn. When you’re old enough, you will become a squire for a real knight and then, one day, if that’s still what you want, you’ll become a knight yourself. No more will knighthood be restricted to those of noble blood. A real knight is someone with noble manners as well as deeds, not noble blood. If you’re talented enough and if you really believe in it enough, then you’ll become a knight, I promise you that. And the promise of a Queen is sacred and cannot be broken.”


	29. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been a rather long time, hasn't it? Sorry for the long wait but I was busy and I still am. I got caught up in other things and I didn't have time to write. Still, don't worry, this story is not abandoned. I will update when I can and this story will be finished, though I can't promise you regular updates. I'll try but...  
> Anyway, hope you like this chapter from Jon's POV. A little conversation between Jon and Davos which was a long time coming. Tell me what you think!

** Chapter 28 **

Jon returned to the palace with Davos in tow, leaving Daenerys to her busy schedule and wondering when he was finally going to have the chance to speak with her. Still, his mind was pleasantly engaged, recounting Daenerys’ behaviour throughout the day.

Jon had been afraid Daenerys was going to ignore him or worse, rescind the invitation to join her in the visit to King’s Landing’s orphanages. Fortunately, none of his fears manifested. Daenerys, while appearing more subdued and uncomfortable than usual at first, had very quickly warmed up towards him again and returned to behave like she always did towards him.

Jon smiled at the thought of her radiant smile or the small furrow that appeared on her forehead when she was concentrating deeply on something.

Jon loved her for her many different facets. Sometimes she was just Daenerys – though, privately, in his mind, Jon had taken to call her Dany during those times –, a beautiful, warm, compassionate and kind girl who would tease him and smile with him and made him feel welcome and comfortable in his own skin in a way he had never experienced before.

Sometimes she was the fierce Dragon Queen that he had heard so much about, the woman who had conquered nations, led armies and that rode dragons. The one who was ruthless to her enemies and fiercely protective of the people loyal to her.

Sometimes she was the Khaleesi of the Great Sea, similar to the Dragon Queen in manners, but more down-to-earth, less unreachable and goddess-like.

And sometimes she was Mhysa as her followers in Essos called her, the slaves she had freed, and that the smallfolk in King’s Landing had started to call her as well. Mhysa – Mother –, that was what she was to all her subjects. She took care of them and loved them like they were her own children and Jon knew she would protect them just as fiercely as well.

The more Jon learned of this amazing, complex woman and the deeper in love he fell with her. And the more determined he became to marry her.

There had been moments since yesterday when doubt started to creep into his mind, the insecurities of his childhood rearing their ugly head, wondering if he was reaching too high, aspiring to something that a bastard like him didn’t deserve. But he reminded himself of everything Daenerys had told him and taught him since he had met her, of everything that he had learned of himself.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t really a bastard, that he had never been a bastard to begin with. It wasn’t even the fact that he was born a prince of House Targaryen and that he was aware of all of this now. It was more the fact that, despite never knowing all of this, he rose to become King anyway. Sure, he was King in the North and not King of the Seven Kingdoms but that was irrelevant. He had still managed to make something of himself, to rise to power on his own merits, first as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and then as King in the North. He had made mistakes along the way, he was even killed by his own Brothers, but he still got back up every time.

During his childhood he had always felt like he didn’t deserve the things he had. When he became Lord Commander, though he had been happy of the honour bestowed on him, there was always that part of him that had felt like he was being greedy, always reaching above his station. And the same had happened when he had been named King in the North. Sure, he had accepted the title because he knew it was the best way to protect and prepare his people against the Army of the Dead, but he still had felt like that title shouldn’t be his.

Now, he was amazed to find out, he didn’t feel that way anymore. Daenerys had taught him a very important lesson, one he had struggled with all his life because it went against everything he had been taught by everyone around him since he was old enough to understand what being a bastard meant. What you were born as didn’t matter. It only mattered what you made of yourself. What you grew up to be.

Hadn’t Daenerys gone through the exact same thing? Sure, she was born a princess. But she had been a princess only in name. She had nothing but her name, in fact. Everything that she was, that she did, was because of her.

Daenerys had gone after what she wanted and she had taken what she wanted. It wasn’t about deserving something. It was about wanting something hard enough and do everything in your power to get it.

Jon may not have wanted to become King in the North – though maybe it was more the fact that he had felt like he didn’t deserve it than the fact that he hadn’t wanted it, like Daenerys had said – but he was King anyway. And, as King, it was his duty to marry and his prerogative to choose who to marry, who best would fulfil the role of Queen. And he couldn’t see anyone better suited to be Queen than Daenerys.

So maybe, he didn’t deserve Daenerys, because nobody alive really deserved Daenerys Targaryen. But as a King, he did deserve to marry a Queen.

And he loved her. Which was completely irrelevant when it came to politics, but it mattered most to him.

Jon had never thought marriage was something that was ever in the cards for him. Even with Ygritte, though he had loved her, he had known it was just temporary. But he could see a future with Daenerys. He could see himself building a family with her, even if she’d never give him children. They could build their own family, _choose_ their own family. Not one dictated by blood, but loyalty and friendship.

The fact that he could even see a future at all, something beyond the fight against the dead, was astonishing. But it was there. That hope, that dangerous, amazing hope and he would not let go of it. He would not let go of _her_.

“You seem deep in thought, your Grace.” Davos said from his side, abruptly bringing him back to reality.

Jon startled for a moment but then nodded. “I have a lot to think about.” He merely said. They were walking through a corridor in the Keep bustling with servants and soldiers alike. He didn’t feel like sharing more with so many ears around.

“I imagine so.” Davos said with his usual congeniality. “And, dare I say, most of your thoughts centre around one person, eh?”

Jon looked around himself uneasily, not wanting to stir gossip about him and the Queen. “Not here.” Then Jon sighed and figured now was as good a time as any to tell Davos the truth. “Let’s go to my quarters. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Davos nodded and followed him. Once inside his solar, Jon sat on an armchair in front of the fire and Davos sat in the other. Both men poured themselves a glass of Arbor Gold – courtesy of Daenerys’ allies – and sipped in silence for long minutes.

Finally, Jon broke it by saying, “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you, for a while now.”

“Oh?” Davos raised a bushy eyebrow at him but otherwise let him talk.

“The second time I met with Daenerys, a few days after arriving in the Capitol, she told me something…surprising and unexpected to say the least. Something that concerned my parents.” After that, he stopped, unable to find the words to continue.

Davos waited for a second, then two, then three. Then, finally, he asked, “well, what is it?”

Jon decided that being direct about it was the best way to tell him. “I’m not Ned Stark’s son. My real parents were Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. They were in love. Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar, she was never kidnapped and raped. They married in a secret ceremony in Dorne and they had a son together, _me_.”

At that point, Davos’ eyes were as wide as saucers. Jon couldn’t blame him for his astonishment. His reaction to the news had been even worse.

“That’s…” Davos struggled to find words to express his thoughts but without success. He finally gave up on that and asked, instead, “How are you feeling about this?”

Jon sighed but smiled at the kind, considerate man. “Still trying to assimilate the news. But I’m getting there. Mostly, thanks to Daenerys. If she hadn’t been here to help me get through it, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Davos looked pensive now. “She’s the one who told you? How did she know?”

Jon explained about the High Septon’s diary and Davos nodded.

“What a generous thing to do. To tell the only man in the world who might be a threat to her throne that he is, in fact, a threat to her throne when she could have simply left you in ignorance.”

“I know. The queen is very generous. Though, I’m not much of a threat to her throne. She has three dragons, the largest army in the world and most of the regions in Westeros already support her. And she already conquered King’s Landing anyway. And whatever threat I might have been to her, she already dealt with by making me her heir.”

“Oh? She intends to make you her heir? And how do you feel about _that_?”

“I don’t particularly want to be the heir to the throne, though Daenerys likes to remind me that is not about what I want but what duty demands. I’m duty-bound to accept and by accepting it, I would accept every responsibility that comes with it. It’s not about me and my wishes, but it’s about the people and what they need, which is another thing Daenerys likes to remind me of.”

Davos chuckled at his dry tone. “She’s a fierce one, her Grace. For what I’ve seen so far, she might become the best thing that ever happened to Westeros. If she doesn’t get killed first.”

“Get killed? Why would she get killed? If you mean by the Army of the Dead, everyone is, unfortunately, in danger of that. Nobody knows if they’re going to survive the war.”

“That is not what I meant. Daenerys will make you her heir, which is all well and good, but what happens if someone decides that they want a man on the throne instead of a woman and try to get rid of her? She’s the only thing that stands between you and the Iron Throne. If someone manages to kill her, not by waging war against her, but by sending an assassin, though it doesn’t have to be a professional. Someone paid to poison her food would be enough. And _then_ …you would be King. I can’t imagine Daenerys Targaryen, who spent her childhood running from assassins sent by Robert Baratheon, is unaware of a such a thing.”

Jon froze in his seat, because such a thing, such a glaringly obvious thing, had never occurred to him until now. Daenerys was powerful, the most powerful person in the world in fact, but she wasn’t immortal or invulnerable. Someone who wasn’t happy with the way she did things, or someone who simply didn’t like a woman on the throne, a ‘foreign’ woman at that, could very well decide to pay someone to get rid of her.

The thought was unbearable. The idea of a world without Daenerys Targaryen in it was unconceivable. Just the fleeting image in his mind of someone hurting her, let alone killing her, filled him with such potent rage that burning the world down just to avenge her wouldn’t feel out of the question in that moment.  

“I would never let anyone harm her.” Jon said between gritted teeth, trying to control his fury. “They would have to get through me first.”

“Even if the person you have to protect Daenerys from is your own family?” Davos asked, not looking surprised by Jon’s reaction.

Jon reeled at the thought. “No! Sansa would never…she’s many things but she’s not a murderer.”

Davos sighed. “I’m not saying she would. But you can’t discount the possibility completely. Think about it. With Daenerys dead, you would become King and you could grant the North its independence with Sansa as queen and the North would still maintain all the advantages that it would have by being a part of the Seven Kingdoms, but without actually having to submit to the authority of the Iron Throne. I’m sure it would be an appealing thought to Sansa. And if she’s ruthless enough that such a thought could occur to her and cunning enough that she thinks she could get away with it…well…you can never know what people are really capable of. Even people you think you can trust completely and know intimately. I never thought Stannis would burn alive his own daughter, but he did. And he was a man I thought I knew better than most people. I thought I knew what he was and wasn’t capable of, but I was wrong.”

Jon wanted to deny what Davos was telling him. The idea of Sansa, his little sister, who loved lemon cakes and dreamed of gallant knights and pretty songs, deciding that she wanted to kill the Queen…no, not the Queen…Daenerys, the woman he loved, his own kin. It was impossible.

But Jon reminded himself that Sansa wasn’t that naïve girl anymore. She was someone different, colder, cynical. What had happened to her had changed her, shaped her into someone completely different, someone that Jon didn’t know. Sansa was his sister but she was also a stranger. And maybe this stranger who had replaced the sister he knew could really be capable of something like this. Jon didn’t want to believe it. But not wanting to believe something didn’t make that something any less true.

“Though, of course, if you marry Queen Daenerys, none of this would matter. You would join your claims and your kingdoms and nobody, with both your forces united, would be able to challenge your power. The two of you together would be very difficult to defeat.” Davos said and Jon widened his eyes in surprise.

Davos misinterpreted his surprise because he continued, “Now, I know that she’s your aunt but marriages between aunts and nephews, while not common, are not unheard of in Westeros either. Other noble houses have such marriages in their family tree. And you are _Targaryens_ so…isn’t marrying between each other the norm in your family? Nobody would be particularly surprised. And, at least, you're not brother and sister like her parents were...your grandparents, in fact. That's going to take some time to get used to it.”

Jon laughed. Trust Davos to always tell things how they were and remind him to get his head out of his arse when he got caught up in stupid doubts. If Jon had told Davos the truth as soon as Daenerys had told him, Jon would have probably been spared all the days he had spent feeling guilty for lusting after his aunt.

“Trust me. I thought about it.” Jon answered once his laughter had died out. “In fact, I’ve already proposed to her.”

Davos smiled widely at him. “Ah. You work quickly, lad. And when can we expect the royal wedding to take place?”

Jon frowned broodily at the reminder that there wasn’t going to be any wedding any time soon, not unless he could manage to convince Daenerys to marry him. “She refused me, Davos.”

“What? Why?”

Jon shrugged. “She said something about her not trusting that I would stay loyal to her if the choice was between her and Sansa and the North. That she needs a husband who would make her his priority, above everything else and that she doesn’t think I would be that man.”

Davos tilted his head in thought. “That’s a very specific reason to refuse someone.”

“I know. That’s what I don’t understand. It’s like she _knows_ that something like this would happen. I mean, she _did_ say that she sometimes dreams of the future but…”

“Well, looks to me like you two need to have a very long conversation about it. I hope you’re not going to give up on the idea of marrying her without a fight?”

“No. I love her, Davos.”

Davos smirked in amusement. “Yes, that was rather obvious, your Grace. You’re not exactly subtle, what with the way you look at her like she’s the most wonderful and amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

Jon blushed a little in embarrassment but explained, “I never thought I could fall in love with someone after Ygritte, especially not in such circumstances, with the army of the dead at our doors, but I couldn’t help it. And what I felt for Ygritte is nothing compared to what I feel for Daenerys now. I’m not giving up on her, especially not when I know that she loves me too.”

“Good. I can’t imagine a better royal couple than you two. Maybe after years of wars, misery and famine, and after a succession of bad monarch after bad monarch, the realm could finally be ruled by someone worthy of the title: a just woman and an honourable man.”


	30. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, sorry about that! Still, hope you like it anyway. Next is finally the big talk. Who's excited? I certainly am to write it. Anyway, tell me what you think!

** Chapter 29 **

“Tell me, Lord Tyrion, are there any castles sitting empty near the city? Whose House’s members all perished because of the recent wars?” Daenerys asked him once the both of them and Lord Gendry had all sat in the usual study that Daenerys used for private meetings with her advisors.

“Several, my queen. The wars have not been kind to the Westerosi population, whether nobles or commoners.”

“Wars never are.” Daenerys replied in a dry tone. She was too tired to withstand Tyrion’s wit that day.

Tyrion, perceiving her lack of patience, continued, “One in particular stands to mind. Hayford Castle. House Hayford is one of the Houses sworn directly to the Iron Throne and the castle is only half a day’s ride to King’s Landing. The last member of House Hayford, just a baby – Lady Ermesande – was married off by my father to one of our numerous cousins, Tyrek Lannister. Unfortunately, Cersei killed them both when she blew up the Sept. So, now the castle is deprived of a Lord or a Lady.”

“That’s interesting.” Daenerys said, “And tell me, how big is this castle?”

“Smaller than the Red Keep, but still able to house a few thousand people. May I ask, my queen, what is your interest in empty castles?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Daenerys merely said before turning to Gendry. “Lord Gendry, I need the exact number of both the children living in the orphanages and those living in the streets without a guardian to take care of them. Tyrion, I need you to look into the funds the crown has designated for the various orphanages, who’s receiving them and especially, what exactly are they doing with them, because, from what we’ve seen, very little of it is being used to provide for the children. Greedy men have been taking advantage of the generosity of the crown for who knows how many years, maybe since my father was King, and left the real recipients in abject poverty and misery. That cannot be allowed to continue, not under my rule.”

“Yes, your Grace.” They both said, and Daenerys nodded before continuing, “Most of the orphanages I’ve seen today would need to be demolished completely and then rebuilt. That would take too much time and more funds than what we currently have. I know, Lord Tyrion, that you’re worried about that, and you’re right. We need a source of income so that we won’t be forced to raise taxes that the various regions will not even be able to pay anyway, yet again because of the war. I’ve been thinking of possible solutions for that. However, for now, what we can do is use the resources we currently have.”

Tyrion caught on much quickly than Gendry, his eyes widening at Daenerys’ words. “You mean to turn a castle into an orphanage? “

“Yes, that’s exactly what I intend to.” At Tyrion’s expression, Daenerys asked, eyebrow raised, “you don’t approve?”

“I do.” Gendry said, grin wide on his handsome face. Daenerys smiled at him then turned back to Tyrion.

Tyrion looked hesitant. “Your Grace, it’s not that I don’t approve, it’s just that…well, some might not take it well, that’s all. They would certainly expect you to give the castle and the lands surrounding it to someone who fought for you, a landless knight perhaps?”

“By some, you mean the nobles, I doubt the commonfolk would find fault in such a decision. A queen listens to all, and I will, of course, listen to their complains when they will make them but I will not be swayed on this. Such an arrangement will also allow us to keep an eye on everything, from the funds, which will be redirected to a single target – therefore avoiding any more misuse –, to the wellbeing of the children, which will not be thrown into the streets without purpose or means to sustain themselves anymore. The servants who currently work on Hayford Castle will get to stay and continue with their duties. If necessary, we will hire others as well. The children will not only have a place to stay – hopefully they will get to call it home in time – but they will also be educated there. The taxes the tenants used to pay to the various Lord Hayfords will be used to pay the stipends of the servants who will work in the castle while the crown will take care of the educators’ stipends. I will put a qualified person, someone I can trust, in charge of everything. Hopefully, if everything goes well, we will be able to open other such orphanages in the other Kingdoms as well.”

Tyrion still looked a little uncertain and Daenerys tried to supress the frisson of irritation at the doubt present in his eyes. “I know that this is something no one has ever done before and because of that you think maybe such a thing is impossible to realize. But, as someone once told me, I do tend to make impossible things happen. And compared to bringing dragons back into the world, this is nothing.” She grinned at him, hoping to convince him to trust her.

She felt frustrated with herself, that after all that Tyrion had done in her dreams, she still wanted him to believe in her. Daenerys didn’t need Tyrion’s approval, not like before, but she would still like to have it anyway. She still intended to make her own decisions, regardless of others’ feelings on the matter, but that didn’t mean that she had stopped listening to others. But listening didn’t mean following others blindly and forget her own voice. That was one of the many mistakes she made in her dreams and that led to her downfall. But she wasn’t that person, and she will not become _her_ either – she would prefer letting Jon Snow kill her like he did in her dreams that become that pale imitation of whom she really was.

Tyrion and Gendry left soon after and Daenerys breathed a sigh of relief. She retired to her quarters after a light meal, the sun hidden behind the horizon by that point. It had been a long day and now, all she wanted to do was sleep.

She was about ready to go to bed when one of her guards warned her that she had a visitor who wanted to speak with her. Jon Snow.

Daenerys sighed, half-tempted to just turn him away but then she figured, even if she did, she would still have to deal with him in the morning, maybe it was just better to get it over with.

“Let him in.” She said to Red Rat in Valyrian. It wasn’t long before the King in the North was entering her solar, the same determined expression he had been sporting all day still set on his beautiful face.

“We need to talk, Daenerys.”

Daenerys sighed again, feeling tired to her very bones. “Yes, I suppose we do.”


	31. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the chapter that I imagine, you have all been waiting for. It's also my longer chapter for this story to date but that's not saying much since my chapters are usually pretty short. Anyway, here you go! Also, just to warn you, it's possible I'll take a short break from this story to concentrate on 'We Can Find Another Way' and some of my other stories, maybe. Still, I won't be gone long. Hope you like this chapter, it certainly took a lot out of me but I'm pretty satisfied with it. (Also, please, read the whole chapter before judging and remember, this is Daenerys' perspective of things).

** Chapter 30 **

Daenerys invited Jon to sit, then she did the same. Daenerys waited for him to say something, but he kept silent. She clenched her hands into fists on her lap, to stave off the prickling of irritation traversing her skin. She had no patience for his silences.

“Well? I thought you said we needed to talk.” She said to him, voice harsher than she intended.

Now that the moment was finally here, all the feelings she had been keeping at bay all these weeks, were finally coming out. She feared this conversation wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Why did you say no?” Jon asked her, seemingly like he had just blurted the question out.

“Why did you even ask me to marry you in the first place?” She retorted. “We both know you didn’t really mean it.”

Jon glared at her and stood up to pace the room. “I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t mean it.” He raised his voice in his agitation and Daenerys couldn’t suppress the sick enjoyment she was feeling in that moment. Finally, he was showing some kind of reaction. Unlike that damn dream. “Why would you think that?”

Daenerys didn’t answer and Jon sighed, calming down. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?”

Daenerys smiled, but it was a bitter smile. “Because there is.” She stood up as well and came closer to him, looking him in the eyes. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. I couldn’t tell you then, but maybe now is time for you to know everything.”

“What do you mean? What did you keep from me?”

Daenerys turned her back on him and went to stand in front of the hearth. She took strength in the warmth and brightness of the flames, soaking in it for long moments before finally turning around. “I told you before that, sometimes, my dreams come true.”

Jon nodded, though he looked confused.

“Well, I had such a dream, a few weeks before sailing to Westeros, when I was still in Meereen. And that dream…it changed everything.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw my downfall and my death, by _your_ hands.”

“What?” He looked horrified now. He came closer to her, trying to take her hands in his but she didn’t let him. “No! Dany, it was just a dream. A nightmare. I would never hurt you, _ever_.”

Daenerys flinched at the name. “Don’t call me that. Never call me _Dany_ again.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon said, though he looked distraught still. “But, please, you have to believe me. I don’t know what you saw but it will never happen, ever.”

“Oh, it won’t. Because I won’t let it.” Her voice turned cold, but it was to mask all the emotions threating to overwhelm her.

She needed to put distance between her and her feelings, or she would never be able to explain this to Jon in a way that he would understand.

She took a deep breath and said, voice emotionless. “Let’s sit down. And I will tell you everything.”

Jon looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her for words of reassurance. Unfortunately, she couldn’t give them to him.

They sat down once again, and then she did, she told him everything. From her coming to Dragonstone, Tyrion’s plans for the war, and how her conquest of Westeros – which should have been quick and easy – turned into a disaster after another, and then him showing up at Dragonstone, asking for her help with the Army of the Dead, for dragonglass, how they grew close with each other, and Daenerys losing her allies one by one, the battle against the Lannister forces after Jaime Lannister and his men, and the traitorous Randyll Tarly and his son, killed Olenna Tyrell and everyone else at Highgarden, and how she had burned father and son alive, after giving them the chance to bend the knee or go the Wall and they had refused both.

The way Tyrion and Varys had started looking at her differently but how she had tried to ignore it. And then, yet another one of Tyrion’s brilliant plans, how him, and ser Jorah, and a group of their men, went beyond the Wall to catch a wight, to show it to Cersei so that they could convince her to halt hostilities until after the war against the dead, how it all went wrong and they ended up trapped there, how Daenerys came to rescue them and lost Viserion in the process, killed by one of the Night King’s spears. How he had bent the knee to her after that, and how they had both realized their feelings for each other during the ship voyage back to Dragonstone but neither of them had said anything to each other yet.

And then the Dragonpit meeting, Cersei lying about helping them, though they hadn’t known it at the time. And then, how they sailed together for White Harbour and how, since the first night he knocked on her door and they made love, they didn’t spend one night apart.

Daenerys stopped to breathe at that point, trying to gain the courage to continue. Now came the hard part.

“We arrived North, riding together side by side.” She continued, not looking at Jon, her gaze turned to the fire instead. He hadn’t interrupted her once since she started talking and she was grateful for that. “I saw the way they looked at me and my people, but I held on to your words: ‘they will come to see you for what you are’. I was prepared for their mistrust at first, but it wasn’t the first time I had won people to my side so I wasn’t particularly worried. And then, I met your sister, Sansa.”

“What about my sister?” He didn’t sound defensive, but more resigned.

“Her disdain was evident from the moment you introduced us. Not only towards me, but towards my people as well. The foreigners, the _savages_ and eunuchs. I could feel the judgement in her cold blue eyes and I was honestly, taken back. I told myself that she was just wary and I remembered what you told me about her, what she had gone through with Ramsey Bolton. So, I tried to play nice, at first. But at our first public meeting with your lords, she spoke up against me, bemoaning the presence of my men, the people who had come to save her home, saying that she didn’t have enough food to feed them all, as if they were a burden and not there, risking their lives for _her_ people.

“I even tried to talk to her, the two of us alone, and, at first, I thought I was reaching her, trying to make her understand that I was there just to help and because I loved you, but then she started to bring up the whole ‘northern independence’ argument and things soon soured between us again. Now I realized she was just playing me from the beginning. She was never genuine, she was just trying to butter me up. She was, all in all…I think _horrible_ is the right word to use.”

Jon sighed, a hand going through his curls in frustration. “Sansa is…difficult. I know.” It looked like he didn’t exactly know what else to say. Well, at least he wasn’t trying to defend her, that was something.

Daenerys smiled. “That’s an understatement. Oh, by the way, Bran and Arya are alive.”

“What?” Jon looked taken aback, both by the news and by the seemingly non sequitur.

“Yes. Your brother is now calling himself the ‘three-eyed raven’, whatever that means, and your sister Arya was an assassin from the House of the Black and White, in Braavos. The Faceless Men.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again a moment later, left speechless. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“That’s not even the point. Well, there’s a small point to it. Your siblings are not the same people you remembered when you were younger, before you joined the Night’s Watch. Everything that happened, to them and those they loved, it changed them, and not in a good way.” Daenerys shook her head then. It was useless anyway, trying to warn him. He hadn’t listened to her before, in her dream, why would he listen now?

“Your lords took the hint from Sansa and they didn’t even try to hide their open hostility towards me and my people. They weren’t happy you bent the knee to me, a Targaryen queen. All they could see when they looked at me was my father. They were blind and deaf to everything else. Pig-headed, foolish children, the lot of them.”

“And, where was I? I must have spoken up for you, said something, tried to make them try to understand.” Jon’s voice took on a pleading tone once again.

“No, you didn’t. At least, not in public. You never stood up for me in public. You tried to justify the fact that you had bent the knee to me as if you hadn’t had any choice in the matter. It was that, or death for everyone in the north. As if I hadn’t sworn to you that I would have helped you whether you’d bend the knee or not. You know, I can understand that, in a way. You’re desperate for their approval. Being named King in the North must have been the greatest honour of your life, right? I imagine they judged you for being a bastard, but especially the _honourable_ Ned Stark’s bastard. I imagine being named King by the same people who used to look down on you must have felt very satisfying. Therefore, you must have been afraid of displeasing them. Am I wrong?”

Jon turned his gaze away. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s difficult to imagine what I was thinking in this dream of yours.”

The way he said it, so disparaging, made her angry. “It wasn’t just a dream. It was real. It was a warning. Something that would have happened if I hadn’t done things differently. So, don’t you dare dismiss it as if it were just some stupid nightmare.”

Jon raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I just don’t understand. Everything that you’re saying, it feels both possible and impossible at the same time. It doesn’t _feel_ like me. The more you’re telling me about my actions and the more I want to deny that I would ever act this way.”

“I wasn’t perfect either. I realize now that I could have done more, to try to bring the northern lords to my side. But I did nothing. I followed your lead and defer to you, because I thought you knew them better than me and you knew how to deal with them. But the truth is, maybe I was just afraid to try and still not succeed. I was afraid of never earning their approval and so I never even tried to. I don’t know. Still, you weren’t a great help, to be honest, and Sansa’s influence on them is great. And she hated me. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say that.”

“Wait, I just realized something. You didn’t tell me – I mean, the me in the dream – about me being Rhaegar’s son.”

“Yes, I didn’t. Because I didn’t know. I had no idea. Imagine, I even thought you could ride Rhaegal without knowing that you were my brother’s son. I trusted you completely. I loved you in a way and with an intensity that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I wanted to marry you and I wanted us to rule together.”

Jon smiled at her then. “I want that too. More than anything.”

Daenerys shook her head. “The story isn’t over yet. Let me finish.” Jon nodded and she continued. “Samwell Tarly was the one who told you the truth. Bran Stark decided that the best moment for Samwell to tell you was when he had just found out – from me – that I burned his father and brother alive. It didn’t matter that I had my reasons for it. He hated me for that and he took advantage of the news of your parentage to try to get you to turn against me. He wanted you on the Iron Throne. It didn’t matter that I came north to help all of you, it didn’t matter that I turned away from my quest for the throne, something I wanted since I hatched my dragons in the Dothraki sea, to come north. No, to Samwell Tarly I was the villain, the tyrant, who had killed his family and therefore, I needed to go. I think he wouldn’t have minded if I had died, just as long as it would get _you_ on the throne, instead of me.”

“No.” Jon shook his head, northern brogue getting rougher. “Sam is not like that.”

Daenerys shrugged. “I’m not here to convince you of your friend’s manipulations and plots. I’m here to tell you what I saw in my dream. You can believe me or not, at this point I don’t even know if I care if you do.”

Jon closed his mouth, broody frown firmly in place.

“So, you found out the truth and started to avoid me. I didn’t know why. I thought I did something wrong but you wouldn’t talk to me so I didn’t know what to do to fix it. And that gave your sister and your lords more ammunition against me. Arya Stark didn’t even have the courtesy to introduce herself to me – she wasn’t even there when we arrived in Winterfell’s courtyard to greet us, not you as her brother or former King in the North and now Warden of the North, nor me as the Queen –and you never bothered to introduce me to her either. She just kept staring at me with unnerving eyes, every time we were in the same room together, like she was trying to figure out ways to kill me. And your brother Bran. The first and only thing he said to me when I arrived in Winterfell was that the Night King had resurrected Viserion and was using him as his ride. My _child_ , turned into a slave, and the worst thing was that he had died for absolutely nothing since Cersei had no intention of helping us in the first place.

“So, Bran Stark could announce in front of the whole of the North that my child was now a mindless slave, completely uncaring of what such news meant to me, and the fact that I couldn’t show my feelings openly because I was surrounded by people that didn’t trust me and that I didn’t trust in turn. But warning me that Euron Greyjoy was waiting for me in Dragonstone, that would have been too much for him, right? He said that he couldn’t interfere but then he did anyway, only when it suited him.” Daenerys realized she was rumbling a little, but she couldn’t help it. All these feelings she had kept hidden for so long, they were coming out without control now.

“I’m getting too far ahead.” She said then. “So…after days in which I felt more alone and isolated that I’ve ever felt in my entire life – and that’s saying something –, the night of the battle against the dead arrived. I sought you out because I wanted to spend what could have been our last night on earth, with you. And I found you in the crypts, in front of Lyanna Stark’s statue. And that’s when you told me.

“I was shocked and yes, I didn’t react in the best way. I didn’t ask what it meant for you, how you were. In that moment all I could think about was myself. But, in my defence, I knew what this news could have meant, much more than you did. Your very existence put me in danger. And not only that, but I suddenly felt like everything that I fought for and survived, and lost, it meant nothing. I wondered to myself, did I do all of this for nothing? Because I knew that they would have preferred you to me on the throne and I couldn’t stand it. I deserved the throne, or at least, I thought I did. I fought and killed and bled for it and it was all for nothing. It had been my life’s purpose for so long, and it was gone, just like that, and because of the man I was in love with to make things worse. So, yes, I didn’t react well. Your claim to the throne was the only thing I focused on. Not the fact that you were my family, that I wasn’t the only one left after all. And I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry.”

Jon looked at her with compassion. “It doesn’t matter, Daenerys. Since I came to King’s Landing all you did was support me and help me. You’ve changed so much; don’t you see that? What does it matter what you saw? Look, maybe it is true, or it could have been, but it’s not anymore. Nothing that happened in that dream will ever come to pass.”

“I told you, I’m not done. The worst is yet to come.” Jon kept silent, only nodding at her to continue. He looked worried now and Daenerys couldn’t blame him. So many revelations all at once and he still didn’t know the worst of it.

“It didn’t even occur to me that you might have a problem with us being related. It certainly wasn’t a problem for me. I was a Targaryen and I grew up like one, unlike you. I knew the history of our House. And for most of my life, until Viserys sold me to Khal Drogo for an army, I was convinced he and I would have married. But it was and it seemed that knowing of our relation was enough for you to decide that it was over between us. Not that you ever said that aloud but, it was over all the same. I simply didn’t want to accept it, I didn’t want to see. The horn sounded, while we were in the crypts. The dead had arrived and there was no more time to talk.

“The battle against the dead lasted all night. Until, finally, at dawn, it was over. Your sister Arya killed the Night King and all the White Walkers and wights he had created, died with him. Including my Viserion. And I lost Jorah that night. He died protecting me. He died in my arms and I couldn’t do anything to save him. And I lost half my army, brave men who fought and died for people that didn’t care about them, that saw them as foreign savages who didn’t belong there. I hated your northern people in that moment like I’ve never hated anyone before. And the pain of losing Jorah, and Viserion for the second time. It was too much. And you, like in the previous days, were nowhere to be seen. Too caught up in your _real_ family to see that I needed you. So, we burned the bodies and then we had a banquet to celebrate. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I needed to put on a good face. So, I went, I toasted Arya, I congratulate all of us for winning, when all I wanted to do was remain locked up in my room to cry and mourn in peace.

“Sansa didn’t even bother to invite my people, those who had survived after fighting to save her ungrateful hide and her home – the whole North – to the celebratory banquet. I imagine she wouldn’t have invited me either if she could have gotten away with it. You were celebrating and drinking with your people, who hailed you as the hero who fought on a dragon – yes, ironic, I know – while I sat there next to you but miles away, surrounded by people and yet, completely alone, just listening. I’m the one who brought dragons back into the world, I’m the first dragonrider in a century but none of it mattered, because there was you.”

At Jon’s stricken look, Daenerys rushed to say, “I don’t blame you for it. I’m not telling you this because I think you didn’t deserve their praises, because you certainly did. But I’m honestly hurt that they could see what you did, and yet being completely uncaring of what I’ve done. No matter what I did, it was never enough for them. Do you understand? They would never accept me. They are too proud and stubborn and they hate outsiders. They will never accept anyone else but their own.”

“You might be right.” Jon admitted, voice sad and tired. “But I want to believe that they _will_ come to see you for what you are. I know what you saw in this dream and I do believe you, but I also think that, if I had helped you, if I had been there like I plan on doing as soon as we arrive North, that they will change their minds. _We_ will change their minds, _together_. And we are together in this, I promise you. I will not abandon you. You might not believe my words, and I get that, but I will show you.”

Daenerys shook her head and let out a hollow laugh. “You’re right, I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, but I’ve seen how you are with your family, with your people, it’s like you change into a completely different person. I couldn’t recognize the assertive man who stood up to me in my own throne room at Dragonstone, telling me in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t bend the knee to me, with the one you became once we arrived North. That man was…I’m sorry to say but he was _spineless_ and _weak_. You were like a shadow of your former self. And I know that part of it was because you were confused after finding out about your parents and conflicted about us, but you almost seemed _subservient_ to your family and northern lords, too afraid to disappoint them that you were completely incapable of standing up for yourself.”

“Wow, it’s a wonder you fell in love with me if you think so low of me.” Jon said, sarcasm trying to hide – unsuccessfully – the hurt in his words.

“I don’t. I think you are brave, and good, and honest and honourable. You are probably the best man I’ve ever met. But when it comes to your family and your people, you’re not that man anymore. It’s like the man you became, the leader you made yourself into, despite being a bastard, the one who was named Lord Commander, the one who made peace with the Wildings and allowed them south of the wall, even the one who fought to regain his home, he just disappeared and you returned to be the bastard child you once were, the one that Catelyn Stark hated and emotionally abused, the one despised for his birth, the one your sister Sansa ignored, the one who needed to pretend he wasn’t better than Robb at sword-fighting or counting so not to outshine your trueborn brother. No matter what they did, how awful they were to the woman you swore you loved, you still took their side. You still chose them, every time. That’s why I don’t believe you. Because I’ll never win, not against them. I will never be your first choice. And I _deserve_ to be. And that’s why I can’t marry you and why we could never be together.”

Jon shook his head, stubborn expression returning. “No. I’m sorry Daenerys, I hear what you’re saying and I think it’s bullshit. I get it, you saw something terrible in a dream, and yes, it was probably a dream of the future, but it doesn’t matter now. I think you’re just afraid of being let down and you’re just trying to protect yourself and I get it, but I don’t accept it. I love you and I will show you that you’re wrong.”

“Wait until you hear the rest of the story first. You might change your mind. Actually, you most certainly will.” Daenerys took a deep breath, trying to stop the tears filling her eyes from falling down her cheeks. She wasn’t going to cry. “Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes, the feast. I left rather abruptly after a while, because I couldn’t stand to be there anymore, not that nobody really noticed or cared, except for Varys, who looked at me as if I was about to burn Winterfell to the ground, as if I was about to turn into my father on the spot. But I ignored it, again. A little while later, after I cried in Missandei’s arms like I wanted to, I went to your room. You expressed your condolences for the loss of Jorah and I told you that I didn’t love him, not the way he wanted, not the way I loved you. And I kissed you and you kissed me back for a bit – you were pretty drunk – but then, of course, you remembered what our situation was and you rejected me.

“You told me that you wanted to tell your family the truth, and I begged you not to. I’ve never begged for anything in my life but I was begging you. But you ignored me, you ignored my reasons completely. I tried to warn you about your sister, how she would use that information against me, but you didn’t listen. So, you told her and Arya and Bran. You told them after a war meeting to decide how we were going to take King’s Landing. At that point I was fed up with talks of sieges, I just wanted to take the city and remove Cersei from the throne. I didn’t mean that I wanted to burn the city to the ground, there were other methods to take the city without burning it. How was a siege that would take months and that would starve the population any better than take the city in a day with my dragons like I did this time? But, of course, every time I tried to bring up the fact that I wanted to use my dragons to take the city, Tyrion and Varys looked at me like I was my father. So, I listened to yours and Tyrion’s plans, even if my gut was telling me that I was making a big mistake. But I trusted you still. Nobody, not even me I’m ashamed to say, remembered about Euron Greyjoy and his fleet lurking in the Narrow Sea. And, of course, your brother – who doesn’t interfere unless it suits him and who knew, I’m sure of it, what would have happened – didn’t warn me. So, we divided our troops. You and your northerners would march towards King’s Landing while my army and my dragons would reach Dragonstone by sea. But there, just as we were about to reach Dragonstone, Euron used a scorpion – a big crossbow basically – to bring down Rhaegal. He died, falling into the sea, a short distance away from the place I was born. And then, if that weren’t bad enough, he captured Missandei. Tyrion, being Tyrion, tried to reason with Cersei and I, stupidly, went along with him. But, of course, Cersei had no intention of releasing Missandei. My best friend, my sister, died in chains. She was beheaded, right in front of me and Greyworm – the man she loved and who loved her – by the monster who raped and killed my good-sister and killed my niece and nephew. I was furious and devasted. But still, I waited. I didn't attack immediately. Instead, I went back to Dragonstone.

“For days I couldn’t get out of my head, overwhelmed by grief as I was. I felt it all, in that dream. Like a bottomless pit had taken refuge in my chest. And then, at my weakest, at my lowest point, what happens but one of my advisors betraying me and trying to kill me?”

At Jon’s surprised look, Daenerys nodded. “Yes, Varys started to put poison in my food. Tried to kill me in my own home. So, I starved myself. You must be wondering why. Well, it’s simple. Sansa, who swore in front of the Weirwood Tree, that she would never reveal your secret to anyone, told Tyrion instead. Tyrion told Varys and so, Varys took it upon himself to get rid of me so to put _you_ on the throne instead. In his eyes, I wasn’t fit to rule anymore and I needed to be dealt with.

“Finally, you joined me in Dragonstone but you didn’t bother to come and see me, ask how I was after Rhaegal and Missandei dying. You only came to see me after I executed Varys with Dragonfire, but not to see how I was. You didn’t say anything but I could see the judgement and fear in your eyes for what I had done to Varys. You were starting to look at me the same way almost everyone else in Westeros looked at me, like I was my father’s daughter. But I tried to ignore it and instead, I tried to appeal to you. I told you that I had no love there, only fear. You told me that you loved me, that I was _your Queen_. I asked you if that was all that I was to you and you didn’t answer. And that, I think, sealed the deal for me. _Let it be fear, then._ ”

Jon shook his head in denial, and Daenerys could his eyes were wet with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered in a small voice.

Daenerys ignored him and continued. “So, we made our plans to take King’s Landing. I was supposed to destroy the frontal gate to allow our troops to enter the city and then deal with Euron and his fleet. Once the bells would have rung to signal the surrender of the Lannister forces, the city would be taken. But when the bells rang, I didn’t stop. Instead, I flew on my dragon and burned everything underneath me I could reach. Not only the Red Keep, but Flea Bottom as well and other districts in the city. I wanted to burn them all. Men, women and children. So many innocent people. And I killed them. _I killed them all_.”

Jon looked horrified and Daenerys smiled bitterly. There it was. She was expecting that. She knew that, once he’d learn what she would have done, what she was really capable of doing, that it was over. There was no hope for them. There never really was.

“Why?” A short word, a single question. Daenerys wished she had an answer to give him.

“ _Why_? I asked myself this same question so many times and I still don’t exactly know. I think partly is because I wanted to punish them. They rejected me without even knowing me. They sided with Cersei and they did nothing to fight for their freedom. I think part of me blamed them for Missandei’s death, for Rhaegal, and even for Viserion and Jorah, and even for everything else that had happened to me, my childhood, my entire life and every loss I had to deal with. Those were the same people who had rejoiced when my family was butchered and I was forced into exile. I don’t know. I only know that, in that moment, I hated every single person in Westeros. I wanted them to hurt as I was hurting. I wanted them to lose everything like I did. I was so angry. I couldn’t see or think about anything beyond my rage and pain. And I think, it’s because it didn’t matter, in the end, none of it mattered.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? I had already lost. Even If I had taken the throne, I had already lost everything that mattered to me. I had nothing left to lose anymore. They already saw me as a monster anyway, as my father’s daughter. What did it matter if I finally proved them right? The bells had rung, the city had surrounded and yet, it didn’t matter. I had won the battle, the Iron Throne – the one thing I had fought for, for so long – was mine, but I had lost anyway. I could hear their screams but I didn’t care. _I stopped caring_. There was this black hole inside me that just kept growing and growing. This _emptiness_ eating me alive. I knew that, even if I had taken King’s Landing, it didn’t matter.

“And then, when it was all over and the city was nothing but ashes, I tried to convince myself that there was still a chance. I could be queen, like I wanted since my dragons were born, and I could have the man I loved by my side. Maybe something still mattered. Maybe I still had a purpose after all. But I knew it was all a lie. I desperately wanted to believe that lie, but I knew it wasn’t true. It didn’t matter. I wanted it to matter but it didn’t, not anymore. It was all over. It had been over since the moment I set foot in Westeros. I started to lose myself, one bad decision at a time so that when you told me the truth, I just started to unravel. I was back where I started. Alone and with nothing.”

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling this time, in the same way she couldn’t stop the sun from rising. She cried and cried and cried, feeling like she would never be able to stop, finally letting out everything she had been trying to ignore and that she had been unable to face, the terrible knowledge that she could be capable of something like this. That there was something deep inside her that could be capable of something so monstrous, that she was, deep down, exactly like her father, and that everyone who kept comparing her to him and that expected her to become like him, was right after all.

“And the worst thing is, the most frightening thing of all is that, I felt _nothing_ after. No remorse or regret. Only emptiness. Actually, I felt almost…light. Like by burning everything, I also burned my pain and grief away. I wasn’t angry or sad anymore. I was just… _empty_.

“We were in the throne room, the same throne room that I had seen in a vision once in Qarth, with the roof destroyed and covered with what I thought was snow at the time, but it was ash instead. You, being you, tried to appeal to me, trying to get me to see what I had done, trying to find some spark of remorse somewhere deep inside, but there was nothing. And so, after I told you that I wanted us to rule together, to _be_ together, you took me in your arms, you told me that I was _your Queen, now and always_ , you kissed me and then you plunged a dagger in my heart. The last thing I felt while dying was the awareness that the man I loved, the man I trusted more than anyone, had betrayed me, that he had killed me. That _you_ killed me. I have no idea what happened after, to you or anyone else, not even Drogon, my last child still alive. That was when the dream ended and I woke up.”

When Daenerys finished speaking, she was expecting a lot of different reactions from Jon. She expected him to leave the room – and her – behind, never looking back. She expected him to scream at her, calling her a monster. Maybe even try to kill her, like in her dream. What she wasn’t expecting, was for Jon to hug her to his chest.

He raised his hands, to show he wasn’t armed. He took off his gambeson and his tunic, and made a show of getting rid of his sword, which had never left its place at his right hip since he had come to King’s Landing. He walked slowly towards her, unthreatening. Daenerys remained immobile, stuck in place.

She knew that he was trying to show her that she had nothing to fear from him, that he didn’t want to hurt her but she still flinched when he came close enough to touch her. Jon ignored her fear and took her in his arms. He held her tight to his chest but Daenerys remained rigid for long moments until she was finally able to relax in his embrace and let out all that she was feeling, crying on his naked chest and holding on to him for dear life.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry for everything I did and everything I should have done but didn’t. I’m sorry that you had to go through all that, alone. I’m sorry that, if you hadn’t been the amazing, extraordinary person that you are, that all of that you saw in that dream could have been our reality now.

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, let alone a world where I’m the one who hurt you, who _killed_ you. And I don’t want to. I don’t care what you could have done. Because I know who you truly are. And it’s not the person you just described. Maybe deep down inside, there’s a part of you that could do something like this, and maybe deep down inside there’s a part of me that would be able to kill the woman I love, to betray her and fail her as I did in that dream. But we’re _not_ the people in this dream. And we won’t be. Ever. I know that you still don’t trust the fact that I love you, truly and completely, and I understand why now. But _I do_ , and, like I told you before, I will prove it to you. I’m not going anywhere. _I’m here for you_ and _with_ you, _no matter what, because I love you, no matter what_ *.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The last line is actually a quote I took from a scene with another favourite couple of mine, Fallon and Liam from Dynasty (don't judge, it's my guilty pleasure!). I thought it very fitting, in this case.


	32. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. After such a long break, I come up with such a short chapter? Sorry, but this is just Jon's POV of the aftermath of Dany's revelation. He comes out at the end of it with a new resolution. I guess you can see it as a new beginning. After this, you'll see a new Jon Snow, or should I say, Aegon Targaryen?

** Chapter 31 **

Hours passed before Daenerys was finally able to stop crying. Jon held her all through the night, until she finally fell asleep just as the first rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon.

But Jon remained awake, watching her sleep, still reeling about Daenerys’ revelations.

He didn’t know what to think. He believed her, he believed that the dream she had seen was real, but the idea that something so horrific and hopeless could have happened to her, and to him, he wanted to reject it completely.

And yet, he couldn’t. Daenerys had used what she saw in her dream to change things, to improve their reality and their situation, and so would he.

At first Jon didn’t want to believe that he could act like Daenerys had described, but the more he thought about it, about the circumstances of everything, and the more he understood how it was possible.

When Daenerys had told him about his parentage he had felt so lost and confused and angry. But Daenerys had been there for him and he had gotten through it. He was still trying to figure out _who_ he was but he, at least knew _what_ he was and _who he_ _wasn’t_.

But what would have happened if he had found out such a thing while in the midst of the war against the dead? Without Daenerys by his side, with his own family and friends only caring about the fact that he was, supposedly, the heir to the Iron Throne, trying to use such an information for their own gain instead of supporting him like he needed to? With the northern lords furious because he had bent the knee to a Targaryen queen of all people, with Jon afraid not only of disappointing them but to end up stabbed to death – again – by people that were supposed to be on his side, the same people who had named him King in the North. With one sister scheming and plotting and manipulating and the other guilt-tripping him into choosing between the woman he loved – his kin – and the family he had grown up with and known all his life.

He had been vulnerable to their manipulations and they had succeeded. Jon hated to think that his own family and friends could be capable of something like this but he believed Daenerys, such pain, such desperation, they couldn’t be faked. It was all true.

He didn’t even want to imagine that he could be capable of killing Daenerys and yet, he could see it. He _didn’t want to_ but he could. Duty had always been the most important thing in his life, everything else had always come second. Duty and honor gave him purpose, made him feel like he could be more than the Bastard of Winterfell. Made him feel like he could become worthy of being the son of Ned Stark.

But he wasn’t the bastard of Winterfell and he wasn’t Ned Stark’s son. That was the point, wasn’t it? He hadn’t seen what Daenerys had seen but he felt like the him in the dream hadn’t had time to accept it. He had kept pretending to be something he wasn’t and he had lost everything, became everything he hated and everything that Ned Stark would have hated. Queenslayer, Kinslayer, Oathbreaker.

 _Love is the death of duty_ , Maester Aemon had said to him years ago, but then duty must be the death of love. It had certainly been for him. But was it worth it? Was it worth becoming everything he hated and despised, killing the woman he loved, for duty, for a family he had never even really been a part of. The answer was a loud, resounding _no_.

Ned Stark had certainly taken him in, but he wasn’t one of them. He might share their blood but he had never been a Stark. He thought the North was his home, but he had never belonged there. He thought it was because he was a bastard, that he was unworthy of it, that he needed to gain the right to be a Stark. But it was all lies.

It was as if everything had suddenly fallen into place. The truth he had denied for so long, it was out in the open now. And he was finally ready to accept it. The North and Winterfell weren’t his home and the Starks weren’t really his family, not in the way he had thought they were or the way he had always wanted them to be anyway.

If things had gone differently, he would have grown up here, in King’s Landing, with the woman in his arms. She was his family, and she was _home_. He had never felt like he belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, with her, by her side. Nothing else mattered but the woman sleeping in his embrace.

It didn’t even matter that, in another life, she could have burned a city to the ground. It only mattered because he never wanted her to reach such a point, because if it were to happen, after everything she did to avoid it, it would destroy her.

He had seen the devastation on her face, the pain and guilt and regret, the fear in her eyes, the self-loathing at what she could have done. She wasn’t her father, she wasn’t crazy, or cruel. She was selfless, and kind, and just – Jon wasn’t wrong about that, he knew he wasn’t. But everyone had a breaking point and in the dream she must have reached hers. Jon couldn’t hate her for that, or resent her, couldn’t muster even the slightest hint of distrust or fear. The Daenerys in that dream had been broken. She had lost faith in herself, she had felt alone and rejected, and like everything she had done, her entire life’s purpose, had been taken from her after fighting, and standing back up, again and again.

And he had contributed to make her feel that way. He had abandoned her when she needed him the most. Was it any wonder she couldn’t trust him now?

But he was different from the one in the dream, and so was she. Jon hadn’t lied when he had said that none of what had happened mattered now. It had been important for both of them to know, so that they could both learn from their mistakes and so they wouldn’t repeat them.

He wouldn’t abandon her now, _ever_. Daenerys was right, she deserved to be his first choice, his main priority, and she was, he would prove it to her. Even if she decided she would never marry him. He loved her, but it was more than that. He _needed_ her, like he needed air to breathe. A life without her in it, would be akin to death, or the darkness he had seen while he was dead. A dark, endless, meaningless nothing. He could imagine what kind of life the him in the dream would have lived after killing Daenerys. Smiling, laughing, eating, sleeping, day after day, and feeling nothing. A ghost, leaving in Jon Snow’s shoes, looking like Jon Snow, but empty inside.

Not even before dying he had ever felt as alive as he felt while he was by her side. That in another life he could have snuffed the light out of the eyes of the person that made him feel alive would have felt like dying a second time. Blood pumping, heart beating, breathing, and yet a walking dead man.

He would not allow this to happen again, not to them. The world would burn before he would allow it to happen. 


End file.
